Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/263

Such melancholy did my spirit move
That all at once I doubted of her faith.
The street wherein I dwelt was lonely, poor.
Lantern in hand, at times, a shade passed by,
When the gale whistled through the half-oped door.
One seemed to hear afar a human sigh.
I know not to what omen, sooth to say,
My superstitious spirit fell a prey.
Vainly I summoned courage — coward-like
I shuddered when the clock began to strike.
She did not come ! Alone, with downcast head,
I stared at street and walls like one possessed.
How may I tell the insensate passion bred
By that inconstant woman in my breast !
I loved but her in all the world. One day
Apart from her seemed worse than death to me.
Yet I remember how I did essay
That cruel night to snap my chain, go free.
I named her traitress, serpent, o'er and o'er.
Recalled the anguish suffered for her sake,
Alas ! her fatal beauty rose once more.
What grief, what torture in my heart to wake !
At last morn broke ; with waiting vain outworn,
I fell asleep against the casement there.
I oped my lids upon the day new born,
My dazzled glance swam in the radiant air.
Then on the outer staircase, suddenly,
I heard soft steps ascend the narrow flight.
Save me^ Great God ! I see her — it is she !