Century Magazine/Volume 47/Issue 5/A Dialogue

THE FAITHLESS LOVER.

, dear Life, in this fair house Long since did I, it seems to me, In some mysterious, doleful way Fall out of love with thee.

For, Life, thou art become a ghost, A memory of days gone by; A poor forsaken thing between A heartache and a sigh.

And now, with shadows from the hills Thronging the twilight, wraith on wraith, Unlock the door and let me go    To thy dark rival Death!

THE FAITHFUL LOVE.

O Heart, dear Heart, in this fair house Why hast thou wearied and grown tired, Between a morning and a night, Of all thy soul desired?

Fond one, who cannot understand Even these shadows on the floor, Yet must be dreaming of dark loves And joys beyond my door!

But I am beautiful past all The timid tumult of thy mood, And thou, returning not, must still Be mine in solitude.