Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/263

Rh Such melancholy did my spirit move That all at once I doubted of her faith. The street wherein I dwelt was lonely, poor. Lantern in hand, at times, a shade passed by, When the gale whistled through the half-oped door. One seemed to hear afar a human sigh. I know not to what omen, sooth to say, My superstitious spirit fell a prey. Vainly I summoned courage — coward-like I shuddered when the clock began to strike. She did not come ! Alone, with downcast head, I stared at street and walls like one possessed. How may I tell the insensate passion bred By that inconstant woman in my breast ! I loved but her in all the world. One day Apart from her seemed worse than death to me. Yet I remember how I did essay That cruel night to snap my chain, go free. I named her traitress, serpent, o'er and o'er. Recalled the anguish suffered for her sake, Alas ! her fatal beauty rose once more. What grief, what torture in my heart to wake ! At last morn broke ; with waiting vain outworn, I fell asleep against the casement there. I oped my lids upon the day new born, My dazzled glance swam in the radiant air. Then on the outer staircase, suddenly, I heard soft steps ascend the narrow flight. Save me^ Great God ! I see her — it is she !