Bryan Procter

The Song of a Felon’s Wife

The brand is on thy brow,
A dark and guilty spot;
’Tis ne’er to be erased!
’Tis ne’er to be forgot!
 
The brand is on thy brow!
Yet I must shade the spot:
For who will love thee now,
If I love thee not?
 
Thy soul is dark,—is stained;—
From out the bright world thrown;
By God and man disdained,
But not by me,—thy own!
 
Oh! even the tiger slain
Hath one who ne’er doth flee,
Who soothes his dying pain!
—That one am I to thee!
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