Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/185

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That I shuddered but to hear?
They told me of such hateful things
In all thy bygone life:—
They said no woman pure and good
Should ever be thy wife!
And o'er my girlish innocence
Distrustful shadows flung,
And o'er love's, sunny radiance
A cloud of sorrow hung!
Oh! bitter, bitter knowledge,
At my bosom entered in!
I can not love thee, Clarence Vane,
Thy soul is stained with sin!
Oh! winning was your eloquence,
And earnest was your tone,
When telling of the rosy path
Your steps of life had known!
And when I listened to your words
My bosom swelled with pride,
That I should be your chosen one—
Your spirit-love! your bride!
I worshiped the great oral power
That chained the silent throng;
I loved the golden lyre that thrilled
With wild and passionate song.
And when, with half-averted eyes,
You spoke of ladies fair:—
Of sweet, bewildering loveliness,
And grace and beauty rare:—
And how you turned away from all
With careless heart and cold:—
In simple, girlish innocence,
I trusted all you told.
Oh! hapless fate! oh! cruel fate!
That perfect love like mine
Should have been given trustingly
At an unhallowed shrine!
False! you will mock me with that word,