Poems (1898)/Conscience

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For works with similar titles, see Conscience.
For other versions of this work, see Conscience (Coates).


The friend I loved betrayed my trust
And bowed my spirit to the dust.
I keep the hurt he gave, yet know
He was forgiven long ago.

From him I did not merit ill,
But I would bear injustice still,—
Content could years of guiltless woe
Undo the wrong I did my foe.