 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
A BROKEN HEART.
She loved him, as a woman can,
Who gives but once affection out,
A single passion free from doubt,
Not tamely moulded on a plan,
Nor marred by fretful lips that pout,
Nor flirted lightly as a fan—
She loved him only, that one man,
Heard but his voice above the shout,
Saw but his face, where thousands ran
In headlong race and battle rout,
Had known him under beggar's clout,
The prison gloom, the exile's ban—
Loved to the last, as she began,
Though tost about.
Who gives but once affection out,
A single passion free from doubt,
Not tamely moulded on a plan,
Nor marred by fretful lips that pout,
Nor flirted lightly as a fan—
She loved him only, that one man,
Heard but his voice above the shout,
Saw but his face, where thousands ran
In headlong race and battle rout,
Had known him under beggar's clout,
The prison gloom, the exile's ban—
Loved to the last, as she began,
Though tost about.
He loved her fondly, as man will,
Who seeks his pleasure not her own,
And harvest reaps he has not sown,
That comes from fortune not by skill,
With fancy that had gaily thrown
Round her the movement of the rill,
The magic rest that haunts the hill,
And was as breezes wildly blown;
He loved her, nor intended ill,
While grace so delicately grown
Had spread its dainty wings and flown;
For, ah, his love was deadly still,
To him her beauty's inmost thrill
Was all unknown.
Who seeks his pleasure not her own,
And harvest reaps he has not sown,
That comes from fortune not by skill,
With fancy that had gaily thrown
Round her the movement of the rill,
104
And was as breezes wildly blown;
He loved her, nor intended ill,
While grace so delicately grown
Had spread its dainty wings and flown;
For, ah, his love was deadly still,
To him her beauty's inmost thrill
Was all unknown.
She loved him, as a woman must,
Who reckons not the price or pain,
Nor balances the loss with gain,
Who deems all others true and just
As she herself, nor thinks of stain
Left by the hideous grip of lust,
That kisses with the kiss of dust;
She loved, nor dreamed of secret chain,
The serpent coil, the preying rust,
With every trouble in its train,
Until she found her glory slain;
And so from home and honour thrust
She cannot, with her murdered trust,
Now love again.
Who reckons not the price or pain,
Nor balances the loss with gain,
Who deems all others true and just
As she herself, nor thinks of stain
Left by the hideous grip of lust,
That kisses with the kiss of dust;
She loved, nor dreamed of secret chain,
The serpent coil, the preying rust,
With every trouble in its train,
Until she found her glory slain;
And so from home and honour thrust
She cannot, with her murdered trust,
Now love again.
He loved her idly, as man may,
Who buys for money on the mart
Some trifle scarce a work of art,
And would with it a little play,
To grace some folly at the start,
Or hasten on a weary day;
With fatal love, that could not stay
Steadfast in any noble part,
But dragged her down to miry clay,
And stabbed her with its venom dart,
That gave a bitter biding smart,
He loved her in the sunlight's ray;
Then, like a toy, he cast away
Her broken heart.
Who buys for money on the mart
Some trifle scarce a work of art,
And would with it a little play,
To grace some folly at the start,
Or hasten on a weary day;
With fatal love, that could not stay
Steadfast in any noble part,
But dragged her down to miry clay,
And stabbed her with its venom dart,
That gave a bitter biding smart,
He loved her in the sunlight's ray;
Then, like a toy, he cast away
Her broken heart.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |