A Child of the People And Other Poems. By James Chapman Woods |
 |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
TO A FALSE FRIEND. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
 | A Child of the People |  |
134
TO A FALSE FRIEND.
Well, we have drifted far enough apart
Never to heave a half-regretful sigh,
Nor feel a fiercer throb of pulse or heart,
For glad days, grown a bitter memory
Of silent vows which shame forbore to tell,
Lest each should laugh at him who loved so well.
Never to heave a half-regretful sigh,
Nor feel a fiercer throb of pulse or heart,
For glad days, grown a bitter memory
Of silent vows which shame forbore to tell,
Lest each should laugh at him who loved so well.
What parted us? No harsh word hotly said,
Repented and forgiven, ere paled a star;
But cold indifference, gathering to a head
Through voiceless months in city-streets afar.
No news, save random rumours flying down,
Of sunnier-souled and falser friends in town.
Repented and forgiven, ere paled a star;
But cold indifference, gathering to a head
Through voiceless months in city-streets afar.
No news, save random rumours flying down,
Of sunnier-souled and falser friends in town.
God knows how I have striven to keep my grip;
But from your soul, new-steeped in worldly oil
Of time-service, my soul's hands could but slip,
Nor grasp it any more for all their toil.
Go, friend, untracked by ban of mine or blame;
Pride keeps us to the world still friends in name;
But from your soul, new-steeped in worldly oil
Of time-service, my soul's hands could but slip,
Nor grasp it any more for all their toil.
Go, friend, untracked by ban of mine or blame;
Pride keeps us to the world still friends in name;
135
But on the heavy heart I carry here
Fall hammer-blows of Fate, that weld my will
Into a sapless scorn of vow and tear
From lips and eyes that seem to love me still.
Friend, I could curse you for a life awry,
That dare not trust another till it die.
Fall hammer-blows of Fate, that weld my will
Into a sapless scorn of vow and tear
From lips and eyes that seem to love me still.
Friend, I could curse you for a life awry,
That dare not trust another till it die.
Go, whither as Fate will; get other friends;
Knead narrower loves and aims into your life;
Work, careless of the means, to soul-cramped ends;
Grow rich and great; marry a stately wife;
But, if your carriage down my street should go,
Drive faster, faster; let me never know!
Knead narrower loves and aims into your life;
Work, careless of the means, to soul-cramped ends;
Grow rich and great; marry a stately wife;
But, if your carriage down my street should go,
Drive faster, faster; let me never know!
| A Child of the People | |