Page:Maurine and Other Poems (1910).pdf/56

 And hide no secret from you in my heart. I love you, Helen, but you are not first To rouse that love to being. Ere we met I loved a woman madly—never dreaming She was not all in truth she was in seeming. Enough! she proved to be that thing accursed Of God and man—a wily vain coquette. I hate myself for having loved her. Yet So much my heart spent on her, it must give A love less ardent, and less prodigal, Albeit just as tender and as true— A milder, yet a faithful love to you. Just as some evil fortune might befall A man’s great riches, causing him to live In some low cot, all unpretending, still As much his home—as much his loved retreat, As was the princely palace on the hill, E’en so I give you all that’s left, my sweet! Of my heart-fortune.’

‘That were more to me,’ I made swift smiling answer, ‘than to be The worshipped consort of a king.’ And so Our faith was pledged. But Vivian would not go Until I vowed to wed him New Year day. And I am sad because you go away Before that time. I shall not feel half wed Without you here. Postpone your trip and stay, And be my bridesmaid.”

“Nay, I cannot, dear! ’Twould disarrange our plans for half a year. I’ll be in Europe New Year day,” I said, “And send congratulations by the cable.” And from my soul thanked Providence for sparing The pain, to me, of sharing in, and wearing, The festal garments of a wedding scene, While all my heart was hung with sorrow’s sable. Forgetting for a season, that between The cup and lip lies many a chance of loss, I lived in my near future, confident All would be as I planned it; and, across The briny waste of waters, I should find Some balm and comfort for my troubled mind. The sad Fall days, like maidens auburn-tressed And amber-eyed, in purple garments dressed,