Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/282

268 So his rough foot hath bruised the dewy grass, And left it sere. Why should his harsh words touch me? The truth of yesterday is false to-day. How could I know, dear God ! How might I guess The bitter sweetness, the delicious pain! A new heart fills my breast, as soft and weak And melting as a tear, unto its lord; But kindled with quick courage to endure, If I need front for him, a world of foes. If this be love, ah, what a hell is theirs Who suffer without hope ! Even I, who hold So many dear assurances, who hear Still ringing in mine ears such sacred vows, Am haunted with an unaccustomed doubt, Not wonted to go hand-in-hand with joy. A gloomy omen greets me with the morn; I, who recoil from pain, must strike and wound. What may this mean ? Help me, ye saints of heaven And holy mother, for my strength is naught!

''She falls on her Knees and bursts into tears. Reenter''

Thank heaven, I came. How have I wrung her soul! A noble love, forsooth ! A blind, brute passion, That being denied, is swift transformed to hate No whit more cruel. (To Maria.) Lady!