Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/264

246 Whence com'st thou ? speak, where hast thou been this night ? What dost thou seek ? who brings thee here thus late? Where has this lovely form reclined till day, While I alone most watch and weep and wait ? Where, and on whom hast thou been smiling, say ! Oat, insolent traitress ! canst thou come accurst, And offer to my kiss thy lips' ripe charms ? What cravest thou ? By what unhallowed thirst Darest thou allure me to thy jaded arms ? Avaunt, begone I ghost of my mistress dead. Back to thy grave ! avoid the morning's beam ! Be my lost youth no more rememberkl ! And when I think of thee, I '11 know it was a dream ! Be calm ! I beg thee, I implore ! I shudder, hearing of thy pain. O dearest friend, thy wound once more Is opening to bleed again. Is it so very deep, alas ! How slowly do the traces pass Of this world's troubles ! Thou, my son. Forget her ! let thy memory shun Even to this woman's very name, My pitying lips refuse to frame.