 | Two women : 1862 |  |
LAKE ERIE.
The Maiden(rising from her knees).
My marriage-morning! Lord, give me thy grace
For the new duties of a wedded life.
The letters have I burned;
And now—the picture. Oh, dear boyish face,
One look—the last! Yet had I been thy wife,
Willie, I had been true to thee—returned
All thy affection to the full.
She said
Love was “a sacrifice.” It is; as—thus:
Get thee behind me, Past!
[Burns the picture.
—Which one of us
Was truest? But why ask? She wronged the dead
With many lovers—nay, her very dress
Showed not one trace of sorrow.
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I never thought her fair, although the throng
Do call her so, they tell me.
—Long, how long
I wore the heavy crape that checked my breath,
And went about as one who sorroweth;
And I did sorrow! Slow months passed, and I
Gave every thought to tearful memory;
My grief grew selfish.
Then—he brought his suit—
My mother wept and prayed. What right had I
To crush two lives? If by the sacrifice
I make them happy, is it not large price
For my poor, broken years? How earnestly
I strove to do the right!
The patient fruit
Of years of prayer came to my aid, and now
I stand in bridal white. Lord, hear my vow:
Oh, may I make him happy! Not a thought
Of any other love shall mar the troth
I give for this life. Evils, troubles, naught
But death, shall part us. Thus the marriage-oath.
But after—then—O Willie!
The Mother
(entering).
Are thou dressed?
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A child more dutiful, more good.
Come, love,
The bridegroom waits.
| Two women : 1862 | |