102
Poems
I felt that easy it must be
To love the one who so loved me,—
You seemed so worthy love;
But, Oh! I felt my heart grow cold,
Before my troth was one hour old,
My folly but to prove.
To love the one who so loved me,—
You seemed so worthy love;
But, Oh! I felt my heart grow cold,
Before my troth was one hour old,
My folly but to prove.
I seemed to give so much to you,
You took as your right and due,—
A gift not much, indeed,
Had I not promised, for your sake
To live my life? from your hand take
The book of Fate to read?
You took as your right and due,—
A gift not much, indeed,
Had I not promised, for your sake
To live my life? from your hand take
The book of Fate to read?
If the page turned at joy or pain,
Sorrow or sickness, loss or gain,
To read it firmly through.
You see the promise I had given,
I fancied had been heard in heaven,—
It was not so with you.
Sorrow or sickness, loss or gain,
To read it firmly through.
You see the promise I had given,
I fancied had been heard in heaven,—
It was not so with you.
And then I knew this heart of mine
Would never wake at touch of thine
To all its fuller power;
And I have learned that I but dreamed,—
Your love was never what it seemed
To me,—not for an hour.
Would never wake at touch of thine
To all its fuller power;
And I have learned that I but dreamed,—
Your love was never what it seemed
To me,—not for an hour.
