Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/171

152 He loved the beautiful, the sun—and God has robbed him of that right. Housed him with men that are not men« with horrors for his sight. And I, my love I have robbed from you the right of love, and hope, and trust, And gave a woman's feeble dreams that God has razed to dust. Oh, pity me, for I am weak, not worth that precious love you gave, I weep undoing, while your ship finds you an island and a grave; I curse my flesh that holds me down, my hidden face, my cowardly hand; I bless the parting voice that said, “My love, I understand.”