It's over now; the blow has fell at last;
It seems as though the sun can n't shine no more,
And nothing looks the way it did before;
The glad thoughts that I used to think are past.
Her desk's shut up to-day, the lid's locked fast;
The keys where she typewrote are still; her chair
Looks sad and lonesome standin’ empty there —
I'd like to let the tears come if I dast.
This morning when the boss come in he found
A letter that he'd got from her, and so
He read it over twice and turned around
And said: “The little fool's got married!” Oh,
It seemed as if I'd sink down through the ground,
And never peep no more — I did n't, though.