 | Along the trail |  |
FORGIVEN
“Despise me if you will. I have done you wrong,—Most grievous wrong,—but not the wrong you think.
You deemed me strongest where I was not strong,
And martyr where a scratch would make me shrink.
Nor, false for truth's sake though I wrest my role,
Am I one half so false as I am true;
And mine own truth has throttled my proud soul
And cast it prostrate at the feet of you.
I am most humble; but my heart cries out
For one last grace from you before we part;
—Though it give pain, to hear my tale throughout
And—not forgive—but understand my heart.
Therefore I bare my soul to you and tell
The utter truth, though speaking so I seem
But a reiterate anguish to compel,
That in condemning you may not condemn
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I told then, act and impulse; I kept not
Aught back that might reveal me to her soul:
And she forgave,—but understood no jot.
1893
| Along the trail | |