Century Magazine/Volume 47/Issue 5/A Dialogue

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              THE FAITHLESS LOVER.

O life, dear Life, in this fair house

    Long since did I, it seems to me,

In some mysterious, doleful way

    Fall out of love with thee.

For, Life, thou art become a ghost,

    A memory of days gone by;

A poor forsaken thing between

    A heartache and a sigh.

And now, with shadows from the hills

    Thronging the twilight, wraith on wraith,

Unlock the door and let me go

    To thy dark rival Death!

              THE FAITHFUL LOVE.

O Heart, dear Heart, in this fair house

    Why hast thou wearied and grown tired,

Between a morning and a night,

    Of all thy soul desired?

Fond one, who cannot understand

    Even these shadows on the floor,

Yet must be dreaming of dark loves

    And joys beyond my door!

But I am beautiful past all

    The timid tumult of thy mood,

And thou, returning not, must still

    Be mine in solitude.