Man’s Devotion
A lover said, ‘O Maiden, love me well,
For I must go away:
And should ANOTHER ever come to tell
Of love—What WILL you say?’
And she let fall a royal robe of hair
That folded on his arm
And made a golden pillow for her there;
Her face—as bright a charm
As ever setting held in kingly crown—
Made answer with a look,
And reading it, the lover bended down,
And, trusting, ‘kissed the book.’
He took a fond farewell and went away.
And slow the time went by—
So weary—dreary was it, day by day
To love, and wait, and sigh.
She kissed his pictured face sometimes, and said:
‘O Lips, so cold and dumb,
I would that you would tell me, if not dead,
Why, why do you not come?’
The picture, smiling, stared her in the face
Unmoved—e’en with the touch
Of tear-drops—HERS—bejeweling the case—
‘Twas plain—she loved him much.
And, thus she grew to think of him as gay
And joyous all the while,
And SHE was sorrowing—’Ah, welladay!'
But pictures ALWAYS smile!
And years—dull years—in dull monotony
As ever went and came,
Still weaving changes on unceasingly,
And changing, changed her name.
Was she untrue?—She oftentimes was glad
And happy as a wife;
But ONE remembrance oftentimes made sad
Her matrimonial life.—
Though its few years were hardly noted, when
Again her path was strown
With thorns—the roses swept away again,
And she again alone!
And then—alas! ah THEN!—her lover came:
‘I come to claim you now—
My Darling, for I know you are the same,
And I have kept my vow
Through these long, long, long years, and now no more
Shall we asundered be!’
She staggered back and, sinking to the floor,
Cried in her agony:
‘I have been false!’ she moaned, '_I_ am not true—
I am not worthy now,
Nor ever can I be a wife to YOU—
For I have broke my vow!'
And as she kneeled there, sobbing at his feet,
He calmly spoke—no sign
Betrayed his inward agony—'I count you meet
To be a wife of mine!'
And raised her up forgiven, though untrue;
As fond he gazed on her,
She sighed,—'SO HAPPY!' And she never knew
HE was a WIDOWER.
