| Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Little Book of Modern Verse. 1917. |
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| 129. The Rival |
| | | By James Whitcomb Riley |
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| I SO loved once, when Death came by I hid | |
| Away my face, | |
| And all my sweetheart’s tresses she undid | |
| To make my hiding-place. | |
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| The dread shade passed me thus unheeding; and | 5 |
| I turned me then | |
| To calm my love—kiss down her shielding hand | |
| And comfort her again. | |
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| And lo! she answered not: and she did sit | |
| All fixedly, | 10 |
| With her fair face and the sweet smile of it, | |
| In love with Death, not me. | |
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