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Page 11
Lady Boycott.
Ah! well, you laugh at me.
But I count years by length of heavy days.
It is so different - a girl's time goes
Like music played for dancing; but a wife's -
Ah Mary married women soon grow old.
Mary.
Love is itself a youth; they should be young
Until their husbands die.
Lady Boycott.
And mine is dead.
Mary.
Dear Eleanor! My foolish sudden tongue!
What was I thinking of?
Lady Boycott.
Why not of me.
You had forgotten me, I saw, just then.
Mary, you need not play now at belief
That the happiness of wifely love was mine -
Such love as we believed in when we talked
In our dear wont here, oh! so long ago,
In such soft dusk as this, of what should be
And what should not to make up that pure good
Of loving and of being loved again.
Mary, you know I never loved Sir Joyce.
Mary.
Oh Eleanor! I feared it. But indeed
I think you should not say it - even now.
Next
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A Woman Sold
Bartimaeus
Judas
Pilate
The Walk To Emmaus
A Bride
A March Night
A Messenger
A Mother's Cry
A Wedding
Afterwards
Dead Amy
Deserted
Dreaming
Glad Waves
Going
How The Brook Sings
If
In The Storm
In The Sunshine
Looking Downstairs
Mary Lost
Never Again
Night Whispers
On The Lake
On The Shore
Our Lily
Passing Away
Perjured
Safe
Shadow
Sunlight
The Blush Rose
The Gift
The Heiress' Wooer
The Hidden Wound
The Lake
The Land Of Happy Dreams
The Old Year Out
The Red Star On The Hill
The River
The Setting Star
The Shadow Of A Cloud
To And Fro
To One Of Many
Too faithful
Two Maidens |
