 | A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England |  |
266
THE DOOMED.
Ay! doomed indeed to worse than death,
To teach those sweet lips hourly guile;
To breathe thro' life but Falsehood's breath,
And smile with Falsehood's smile.
To teach those sweet lips hourly guile;
To breathe thro' life but Falsehood's breath,
And smile with Falsehood's smile.
To kneel before that holy shrine,
Where only Truth should dare appear,
And clasp a hated hand in thine,
In silent shame and fear.
Where only Truth should dare appear,
And clasp a hated hand in thine,
In silent shame and fear.
To speak that vow, with impious art,
Which binds thee ever, solely his,
While in thy shut and silent heart,
A dearer image is!
Which binds thee ever, solely his,
While in thy shut and silent heart,
A dearer image is!
267
To wear within the poison-sting
Of conscious wrong, that never dies;
And tremble, like a guilty thing,
Before Affection's eyes!
Of conscious wrong, that never dies;
And tremble, like a guilty thing,
Before Affection's eyes!
To meet a husband's hallowed touch,
Nor dare, yet long to shrink aside,
To hate—to scorn thyself so much,
Thou loath'st the world beside!
Nor dare, yet long to shrink aside,
To hate—to scorn thyself so much,
Thou loath'st the world beside!
| A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England | |