My heart is lame with running after yours so fast br Such a long way, br Shall we walk slowly home, looking at all the things we passed br Perhaps to-day? br br Home down the quiet evening roads under the quiet skies, br Not saying much, br You for a moment giving me your eyes br When you could bear my touch. br br But not to-morrow. This has taken all my breath; br Then, though you look the same, br There may be something lovelier in Love's face in death br As your heart sees it, running back the way we came; br My heart is lame.