The New Love

If it shine or if it rain,
     Little will I care or know.
Days, like drops upon a pane,
     Slip, and join, and go.

At my door’s another lad;
     Here's his flower in my hair.
If he see me pale and sad,
     Will he see me fair?

I sit looking at the floor.
     Little will I think or say
If he seek another door;
     Even if he stay.