Page:Troubadour.pdf/129

Rh

They left me, darken'd, crush'd, alone, My bosom's household gods o'erthrown.

The world itself was changed, and all That I had loved before Seem'd as if gone beyond recall, And I could hope no more; The scar of fire, the dint of steel, Are easier than Love's wounds to heal.

But this is past, and I can cope With what I'd fain forget; I have a sweet, a gentle hope That lingers with me yet,— A hope too fair, too pure to be Named in the words that speak of thee.