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 | The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar : |  |
PARTED
She wrapped her soul in a lace of lies,
With a prime deceit to pin it;
And I thought I was gaining a fearsome prize,
So I staked my soul to win it.
With a prime deceit to pin it;
And I thought I was gaining a fearsome prize,
So I staked my soul to win it.
We wed and parted on her complaint,
And both were a bit of barter,
Tho' I'll confess that I'm no saint,
I'll swear that she's no martyr.
And both were a bit of barter,
Tho' I'll confess that I'm no saint,
I'll swear that she's no martyr.
| The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar : | |