[Poems by Shillaber in] Poets of Portsmouth Compiled by Aurin M. Payson and Albert Laighton |
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THE DISMISSAL:
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 | [Poems by Shillaber in] Poets of Portsmouth |  |
325
THE DISMISSAL:
Showing the Feeling of a Patriotic young Lady, on the Occasion of her Lover's Recreancy.
The time has come that we must part:
I own no more the tender tie
That lately bound us heart to heart,
And say to all my hopes—good-by.
I own no more the tender tie
That lately bound us heart to heart,
And say to all my hopes—good-by.
I loved a Man. My love is dead;
For, when his country claimed his sword,
He from the trial meanly fled,
And died in living shame abhorred.
For, when his country claimed his sword,
He from the trial meanly fled,
And died in living shame abhorred.
He died to me: I'll own no more
The sway that once my heart inthralled:
The time that's passed I may deplore,
But do not wish the past recalled.
The sway that once my heart inthralled:
The time that's passed I may deplore,
But do not wish the past recalled.
Take back your gifts. The golden chain
You hung about my neck of old
Would now a burden be of pain,—
Your cowardice pollutes the gold.
You hung about my neck of old
Would now a burden be of pain,—
Your cowardice pollutes the gold.
I from my fingers tear the ring
I long have worn in loving pride:
'Twould be from hence a hated thing,
Since all that gave it value died.
I long have worn in loving pride:
'Twould be from hence a hated thing,
Since all that gave it value died.
326
I read your words with burning brow,
So full of tender love for me;
But I absolve from every vow,
And set you from your bondage free.
So full of tender love for me;
But I absolve from every vow,
And set you from your bondage free.
I would have borne with you the toil,
The burden, of obscure estate:
I'd not complain to be the foil
Of adverse and invidious fate.
The burden, of obscure estate:
I'd not complain to be the foil
Of adverse and invidious fate.
With honor left to shed its light,
We, self-sustaining, hand in hand,
Might well have dared misfortune's spite,—
The poorest, proudest in the land.
We, self-sustaining, hand in hand,
Might well have dared misfortune's spite,—
The poorest, proudest in the land.
But now I shudder as I think,
Like one awakened from a dream,
Of slumbering on the awful brink
Of that black-moving hideous stream,
Like one awakened from a dream,
Of slumbering on the awful brink
Of that black-moving hideous stream,
Whose course leads on its darkling way
Through ignominiousness and shame,
Lit only by one lurid ray,
To show my coward-coupled name.
Through ignominiousness and shame,
Lit only by one lurid ray,
To show my coward-coupled name.
Escaped, thank God!—I rend the chain,
And stand up disinthralled and free:
The riven steel, the human pain,
I give, my country's cause, to thee.
And stand up disinthralled and free:
The riven steel, the human pain,
I give, my country's cause, to thee.
'Tis duty's throb that stills complaint,—
No human love must intervene;
And better far than recreant taint
Were early grave and memory green.
No human love must intervene;
And better far than recreant taint
Were early grave and memory green.
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