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I.
NEVER any more,While I live, Need I hope to see his face As before. Once his love grown chill, Mine may strive— Bitterly we re-embrace, Single still.
II.
Was it something said,Something done, Vexed him? was it touch of hand, Turn of head? Strange! that very way Love begun: I as little understand Love’s decay.
III.
When I sewed or drew,I recall How he looked as if I sung, —Sweetly too. If I spoke a word, First of all Up his cheek the colour sprang, Then he heard.
IV.
Sitting by my side,At my feet, So he breathed but air I breathed, Satisfied! I, too, at love’s brim Touched the sweet: I would die if death bequeathed Sweet to him.
V.
“Speak, I love thee best!”He exclaimed: “Let thy love my own foretell!” I confessed: “Clasp my heart on thine Now unblamed, Since upon thy soul as well Hangeth mine!”
VI.
Was it wrong to own,Being truth? Why should all the giving prove His alone? I had wealth and ease, Beauty, youth— Since my lover gave me love, I gave these.
VII.
That was all I meant,—To be just, And the passion I had raised, To content. Since he chose to change Gold for dust, If I gave him what he praised Was it strange?
VIII.
Would he loved me yet,On and on, While I found some way undreamed —Paid my debt! Gave more life and more, Till, all gone, He should smile “She never seemed Mine before.
IX.
“What, she felt the while,Must I think? Love’s so different with us men!” He should smile: “Dying for my sake— White and pink! Can’t we touch these bubbles then But they break?”
X.
Dear, the pang is brief,Do thy part, Have thy pleasure! How perplext Grows belief! Well, this cold clay clod Was man’s heart: Crumble it—and what comes next? Is it God? |