POEMS.
67
It hath been laid upon thy child!
Nay! bend not to this anguish wild!
A shelter from life's storms to me
Hath been thy heart's idolatry;
Tho' it hath not the power now
To ward the death-chill from my brow.
It needeth not that thou shouldst tell
How long thou'st loved me and how well;
Thy child hath answered it to thee,
In her faith's deep intensity.
But, ere she dies, oh! darest thou hear,
Thoughts that weigh down her soul with fear?
Curse not thy child, if, at her tale
Of falsity, thy cheek grow pale!
Father, she heard the holy man
Call on his enemies, God's ban!
She heard him speak of one whose might
Had turned our country's day to night;
Listened until, her senses dim
With awe, she knelt and worshipped him:
And then she prayed that she might die,
Confessing her apostacy;
That pity for her early doom
Could in thy heart alone have room.
Thou couldst not listen and forgive
Thy child's deception did she live."
It was a fearful thing to see
The father's bitter agony;
Nay! bend not to this anguish wild!
A shelter from life's storms to me
Hath been thy heart's idolatry;
Tho' it hath not the power now
To ward the death-chill from my brow.
It needeth not that thou shouldst tell
How long thou'st loved me and how well;
Thy child hath answered it to thee,
In her faith's deep intensity.
But, ere she dies, oh! darest thou hear,
Thoughts that weigh down her soul with fear?
Curse not thy child, if, at her tale
Of falsity, thy cheek grow pale!
Father, she heard the holy man
Call on his enemies, God's ban!
She heard him speak of one whose might
Had turned our country's day to night;
Listened until, her senses dim
With awe, she knelt and worshipped him:
And then she prayed that she might die,
Confessing her apostacy;
That pity for her early doom
Could in thy heart alone have room.
Thou couldst not listen and forgive
Thy child's deception did she live."
It was a fearful thing to see
The father's bitter agony;
