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Page 19 Forgive
me! Blame me! Why, he'll meet my eye
With a friend's carelessness, will smile at me
The perfect proper smile of drawing-rooms.
Oh! my lost love! one love of all my life!
He cares no more for me than for the weed
In flower against his foot, that, if he has time,
He'll notice "In its way 'tis well," and pass,
Just stepping so as not to trample it,
Because he's kindly natured and would crush
No poor slight growing thing without a need.
He cares for me no more than for the dream
He dreamed in last night's sleep, and waking lost:
No more than for the queen in pinafores
Loved in his days of slate and spelling-book.
I am nothing to him, nothing - oh, my love!
And I to shiver in the cold he makes
And smile to him! Mary, I sometimes wish -
Yes, wish, as some sick wretch will idly moan,
"Give me sharp pangs rather than this dull pain," -
I might go mad a moment, lose the sense
Of womanhood, and let his cold man's eyes
See to my heart, see my unhonoured love.
Not that he'd love me then - no never that -
But that there'd be some bond between us then,
Or some defiance, not this civil show,
This mannerly kind hateful indifference.
At least he'd be ashamed for my shame, drop
His eyes that look on me so cold and pleased
At our next meeting, stammer when he spoke.
Perhaps he'd shun me. Aye, and at the least
I could shun him. Now I dare never wince,
Nor stand a step back from a meeting, lest
He should discover.
Next |
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 |
