Page:Maurine and Other Poems (1910).pdf/52

 The hero of my early day-dreams: though So full my heart was with that clear-cut face, Which, all unlike, yet claimed the hero’s place, I had not recognised him so before, Or thought of him, save as a valued friend. So now I called him, adding,

“Foolish boy! Each word of love you utter aims a blow At that sweet trust I had reposed in you. I was so certain I had found a true, Steadfast man friend, on whom I could depend, And go on wholly trusting to the end. Why did you shatter my delusion, Roy, By turning to a lover?”

“Why, indeed! Because I loved you more than any brother, Or any friend could love.” Then he began To argue like a lawyer, and to plead With all his eloquence. And, listening, I strove to think it was a goodly thing To be so fondly loved by such a man, And it were best to give his wooing heed, And not deny him. Then before my eyes, In all its clear-cut majesty, that other Haughty and poet-handsome face would rise And rob my purpose of all life and strength.

Roy urged and argued, as Roy only could, With that impetuous, boyish eloquence. He held my hands, and vowed I must, and should Give some least hope; till, in my own defence, I turned upon him, and replied at length: “I thank you for the noble heart you offer: But it deserves a true one in exchange. I could love you if I loved not another Who keeps my heart; so I have none to proffer.”

Then, seeing how his dark eyes flashed, I said: “Dear Roy! I know my words seem very strange; But I love one I cannot hope to wed. A river rolls between us, dark and deep. To cross it—were to stain with blood my hand. You force my speech on what I fain would keep In my own bosom, but you understand?