 | The lesson of life and other poems |  |
141
SONG OF THE SCORNFUL LADY.
Ah! my Love hath left my side,
How I smiled when we two parted!
He hath fled his grief to hide;
Proud he strode, but broken hearted.
How I smiled when we two parted!
He hath fled his grief to hide;
Proud he strode, but broken hearted.
His heart was my little lyre;
O'er its strings my fingers flinging,
I woke notes of misery dire;
Though the tones his breast were wringing.
O'er its strings my fingers flinging,
I woke notes of misery dire;
Though the tones his breast were wringing.
142
Know ye maids what secret bliss,
Lurks in notes so agonizing,
When Man proudly bends to kiss
Lips that quiver with despising?
Lurks in notes so agonizing,
When Man proudly bends to kiss
Lips that quiver with despising?
Ha! I played it o'er and o'er;
Every note that misery raiseth—
How I'd laugh to see him pour
Tears, when he deems no one gazeth!
Every note that misery raiseth—
How I'd laugh to see him pour
Tears, when he deems no one gazeth!
But, ah me! I needs am sad:
Those last tones too well betoken
That no more my ear they'll glad;
For alas! my lyre is broken.
Those last tones too well betoken
That no more my ear they'll glad;
For alas! my lyre is broken.
Cheer me! why have I repined?
Beauty hearts will ever render;
But I fear I ne'er shall find
Heart 'twill utter tones so tender.
Beauty hearts will ever render;
But I fear I ne'er shall find
Heart 'twill utter tones so tender.
| The lesson of life and other poems | |