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| | “She loves with love that cannot tire: |
| And if, ah, woe! she loves alone, |
| Through passionate duty love flames higher, |
| As grass grows taller round a stone.” |
| —COVENTRY PATMORE. |
SO, the truth ’s out. I ’ll grasp it like a snake,— | |
| It will not slay me. My heart shall not break | |
| Awhile, if only for the children’s sake. | |
| |
| For his, too, somewhat. Let him stand unblamed; | |
| None say, he gave me less than honor claimed, | 5 |
| Except—one trifle scarcely worth being named— | |
| |
| The heart. That ’s gone. The corrupt dead might be | |
| As easily raised up, breathing,—fair to see, | |
| As he could bring his whole heart back to me. | |
| |
| I never sought him in coquettish sport, | 10 |
| Or courted him as silly maidens court, | |
| And wonder when the longed-for prize falls short. | |
| |
| I only loved him,—any woman would: | |
| But shut my love up till he came and sued, | |
| Then poured it o’er his dry life like a flood. | 15 |
| |
| I was so happy I could make him blest!— | |
| So happy that I was his first and best, | |
| As he mine,—when he took me to his breast. | |
| |
| Ah me! if only then he had been true! | |
| If for one little year, a month or two, | 20 |
| He had given me love for love, as was my due! | |
| |
| Or had he told me, ere the deed was done, | |
| He only raised me to his heart’s dear throne— | |
| Poor substitute—because the queen was gone! | |
| |
| O, had he whispered, when his sweetest kiss | 25 |
| Was warm upon my mouth in fancied bliss, | |
| He had kissed another woman even as this,— | |
| |
| It were less bitter! Sometimes I could weep | |
| To be thus cheated, like a child asleep;— | |
| Were not my anguish far too dry and deep. | 30 |
| |
| So I built my house upon another’s ground; | |
| Mocked with a heart just caught at the rebound,— | |
| A cankered thing that looked so firm and sound. | |
| |
| And when that heart grew colder,—colder still, | |
| I, ignorant, tried all duties to fulfil, | 35 |
| Blaming my foolish pain, exacting will, | |
| |
| All,—anything but him. It was to be | |
| The full draught others drink up carelessly | |
| Was made this bitter Tantalus-cup for me. | |
| |
| I say again,—he gives me all I claimed, | 40 |
| I and my children never shall be shamed: | |
| He is a just man,—he will live unblamed. | |
| |
| Only—O God, O God, to cry for bread, | |
| And get a stone! Daily to lay my head | |
| Upon a bosom where the old love ’s dead! | 45 |
| |
| Dead?—Fool! It never lived. It only stirred | |
| Galvanic, like an hour-cold corpse. None heard: | |
| So let me bury it without a word. | |
| |
| He ’ll keep that other woman from my sight. | |
| I know not if her face be foul or bright; | 50 |
| I only know that it was his delight— | |
| |
| As his was mine; I only know he stands | |
| Pale, at the touch of their long-severed hands, | |
| Then to a flickering smile his lips commands, | |
| |
| Lest I should grieve, or jealous anger show. | 55 |
| He need not. When the ship ’s gone down, I trow, | |
| We little reck whatever wind may blow. | |
| |
| And so my silent moan begins and ends, | |
| No world’s laugh or world’s taunt, no pity of friends | |
| Or sneer of foes, with this my torment blends. | 60 |
| |
| None knows,—none heeds. I have a little pride; | |
| Enough to stand up, wifelike, by his side, | |
| With the same smile as when I was his bride. | |
| |
| And I shall take his children to my arms; | |
| They will not miss these fading, worthless charms; | 65 |
| Their kiss—ah! unlike his—all pain disarms. | |
| |
| And haply as the solemn years go by, | |
| He will think sometimes, with regretful sigh, | |
| The other woman was less true than I. | |
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