Page:Ethel Churchill Fragments I.pdf/24



I say not, regret me; you will not regret; You will try to forget me, you cannot forget; We shall hear of each other, ah, misery to hear Those names from another which once were so dear!

But deep words shall sting thee that breathe of the past, And many things bring thee thoughts fated to last; The fond hopes that centered in thee are all dead, The iron has entered the soul where they fed.

Of the chain that once bound me, the memory is mine, But my words are around thee, their power is on thine; No hope, no repentance, my weakness is o'er, It died with the sentence—I love thee no more!