Denzil place a story in verse. By Violet Fane [i.e. M. M. Lamb] |
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 | Denzil place |  |
To Constance had been born a seeming son
Without the torture of the “pains of hell”
(As saith the pray'r book), unto him she clung
This childless second mother, young and fair;
Roland his name; he was the child of one
Who might, maybe, have seem'd a rival now
To Constance, had she lov'd kind old Sir John
With that unjust, impassion'd jealousy
Which reaches from the Present to the Past,—
His dead first wife had died before the boy
Had learnt her face, and Constance was to him
Playmate, and friend, and mother all in one.
Without the torture of the “pains of hell”
(As saith the pray'r book), unto him she clung
This childless second mother, young and fair;
Roland his name; he was the child of one
Who might, maybe, have seem'd a rival now
To Constance, had she lov'd kind old Sir John
With that unjust, impassion'd jealousy
Which reaches from the Present to the Past,—
His dead first wife had died before the boy
Had learnt her face, and Constance was to him
Playmate, and friend, and mother all in one.
| Denzil place | |