 | Love-Lore (1895) |  |
107
LOVE'S SHADOW
I loved, gave body and soul for dower,
Then he flung me from his heart.
What else? he had gather'd and worn the flower.
Let it fall! and so depart.
Then he flung me from his heart.
What else? he had gather'd and worn the flower.
Let it fall! and so depart.
I was a loved and duteous wife,
The wife of a worthy lord:
O, never worthier, nobler life
Deserved to be adored.
The wife of a worthy lord:
O, never worthier, nobler life
Deserved to be adored.
But I,—I daily, nightly pray'd,
As the loving need not pray:
Dear God! vouchsafe to me thine aid
To be true to him alway.
As the loving need not pray:
Dear God! vouchsafe to me thine aid
To be true to him alway.
And he I loved was my husband's friend.
I never loved man but him.
That passionate heaven so low did bend
My wifely eyes grew dim.
I never loved man but him.
That passionate heaven so low did bend
My wifely eyes grew dim.
Under the porch I stood alone
As through the limes he came:
Or ever his hand had touch'd my own
My blood was boiling flame.
As through the limes he came:
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My blood was boiling flame.
O God, to lie on a loving breast,
Unable to make return!
And O for the fire that knows no rest,
That burneth, and aye must burn!
Unable to make return!
And O for the fire that knows no rest,
That burneth, and aye must burn!
Or ever his breath had woo'd my cheek,
Why doth the Lady blush?
Or ever his love had time to speak
My life toward him did rush.
Why doth the Lady blush?
Or ever his love had time to speak
My life toward him did rush.
Under the gnarled oaken boughs,
On a grey moss'd stone we sate;
Silent were both: what need of vows
In the presence of Love and Fate?
On a grey moss'd stone we sate;
Silent were both: what need of vows
In the presence of Love and Fate?
It was but two or three days at most
He came, scarce spoke, and went:
The very sun was a mooned ghost
In the dreary firmament.
He came, scarce spoke, and went:
The very sun was a mooned ghost
In the dreary firmament.
And daily, nightly, ever I pray'd:
Great need was now to pray:
O Truth! vouchsafe to me thine aid,
Lest I should fall away.
Great need was now to pray:
O Truth! vouchsafe to me thine aid,
Lest I should fall away.
109
Again, in the hot and sultry June,
The Presence is at my gate;
And my pulses throb to a lofty tune,
And my heart is all elate.
The Presence is at my gate;
And my pulses throb to a lofty tune,
And my heart is all elate.
For I will love him and do no wrong:
O Truth! upstay me now!
Thou and I, Belovèd! are strong:—
His lips were on my brow.
O Truth! upstay me now!
Thou and I, Belovèd! are strong:—
His lips were on my brow.
And so, weak heart! be brave awhile;
Parch'd lips! hope not to kiss.
I met my lord with a loyal smile;
But my soul was none of his.
Parch'd lips! hope not to kiss.
I met my lord with a loyal smile;
But my soul was none of his.
“Take her and love her more than I!”
For ruth I could not move:—
How I long'd to kiss him tenderly,
The man I did not love.
For ruth I could not move:—
How I long'd to kiss him tenderly,
The man I did not love.
Take her! And wherefore didst thou take?
My joy hath made me blind.
Love! I have left him for thy sake:
What welcome shall I find?
My joy hath made me blind.
Love! I have left him for thy sake:
What welcome shall I find?
Or ever grey autumn bronzed the leaves,
Poor Hope, that doubted ne'er,
Was cowering under her palace eaves:
The winds play'd with her hair.
Poor Hope, that doubted ne'er,
Was cowering under her palace eaves:
The winds play'd with her hair.
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Mockingly then the Loved laugh'd out:
“My Beautiful! be content;
“Yes, I do worship thee, past all doubt,
“But a Wife I never meant.
“My Beautiful! be content;
“Yes, I do worship thee, past all doubt,
“But a Wife I never meant.
“Summer hath many a warm day yet;
“Ever must love be free.”
Carelessly laugh'd he,—“Cheeks tear-wet
“Will grow too pale for me.”
“Ever must love be free.”
Carelessly laugh'd he,—“Cheeks tear-wet
“Will grow too pale for me.”
Had he tired, his love been cold or dull,
Had desire been satisfied,—
But a flower for my lord Caprice to cull
And then to fling aside!
Had desire been satisfied,—
But a flower for my lord Caprice to cull
And then to fling aside!
Or he loved another: but far, far worse,
The doom he brought me nigh,—
The sorrow, the shame, the clinging curse
Of loving unworthily.
The doom he brought me nigh,—
The sorrow, the shame, the clinging curse
Of loving unworthily.
Loving—O more than heaven above;
And to feel that all return
Is the low desire which is not love,—
A “love” which can seek and spurn.
And to feel that all return
Is the low desire which is not love,—
A “love” which can seek and spurn.
Scornfully laugh'd he as I went:
“What wouldst thou have? Sweet Life!
“Little matters for love's content
“That empty name of Wife.”
“What wouldst thou have? Sweet Life!
“Little matters for love's content
“That empty name of Wife.”
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So a year pass'd by, and we two ne'er met;
And I tried to loathe his name;
And no one cared for the cheeks tear-wet
But the one I would not claim.
And I tried to loathe his name;
And no one cared for the cheeks tear-wet
But the one I would not claim.
A long long year. And then again
We two were side by side.
By the death-bed of my lord we twain
Were watching, till he died.
We two were side by side.
By the death-bed of my lord we twain
Were watching, till he died.
Then love's dark hate pass'd out of me,
And I pray'd again: True Heart!
Love me and wed me. “Love is free,”
He answer'd: “We will part.”
And I pray'd again: True Heart!
Love me and wed me. “Love is free,”
He answer'd: “We will part.”
Scornfully laugh'd he as he went—
“Tis better we part, Sweet Life!
“Thou wouldst hardly be more content
“Even with the name of Wife.”
“Tis better we part, Sweet Life!
“Thou wouldst hardly be more content
“Even with the name of Wife.”
Ere I look'd through the mist of tears
He, the Belovèd, was gone.
How could I meet my widow'd years,
Unlovely and alone?
He, the Belovèd, was gone.
How could I meet my widow'd years,
Unlovely and alone?
Then Love stood manifest in Wrath:
I cursed him franticly;
And slipp'd the Avenger on his path:—
Who could avenge but I?
I cursed him franticly;
And slipp'd the Avenger on his path:—
Who could avenge but I?
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And step by step I follow'd him,
I track'd him everywhere;
In vain he hid,—the tigress grim
Could never miss her lair.
I track'd him everywhere;
In vain he hid,—the tigress grim
Could never miss her lair.
Daily and nightly, his gate before,
I lean'd at the lintel-post—
O never, never I loved him more
Thau when I hated most.
I lean'd at the lintel-post—
O never, never I loved him more
Thau when I hated most.
At length we met. And gaze for gaze.
He laugh'd, but his voice was kind:
The full rich voice of the summer days,
Till I grew sick and blind
He laugh'd, but his voice was kind:
The full rich voice of the summer days,
Till I grew sick and blind
And dizzy in Love's great glare of light.
Then fell Love's Shadow—Hate:
And ere the cloud had left my sight
The Man, the Loved, my life's delight,
Lay dead at his own gate.
Then fell Love's Shadow—Hate:
And ere the cloud had left my sight
The Man, the Loved, my life's delight,
Lay dead at his own gate.
| Love-Lore (1895) | |