They  all  will  love  me  for  eternity,

O  cold  caress  of  irony!
That  I  gave  my  love  keeps  me  aglow,
And  yet, — I  would  it  were  not  so;
I  would  that  one  had  refused  to  go!


35


SILHOUETTE

HE  will  deny  it,  but  he  would  be  gone,
Of  all  women  I  am  the  most  alone;
Men  die  and  leave  their  wives  to  widowhood.
But  at  the  worst  death  can  be  understood,
They  have  a  coffined   corpse  on   which   to   brood;
While   I   have  nothing  but  my   sense  of  fear,
For  still  my  husband  lives,  he  is  still  here,
And  yet  I  know  the  end  of  love  is  near.
He  has  not  told  me  that  he  will  forsake,
Not  for   cruel   blows  my  heart  and  body  ache;
He  kisses  me  and  plays  with  my  black  hair.
And  with  a  tender  breath  says  I  am  fair,
And  yet, — and  yet  I  know  he  does  not  care.
No  man  could  be  more  kind  than  he  to  me,
But  every  smile  is  a  hard  mockery.
Because  within  his  heart  he  would  be  free!

I  cannot  puzzle  out  this  mystery, —
Just  one  short  year  ago  I  was  his  bride ;_
He  caught  me  up  and  placed  me  at  his  side,
His  wish  to  have  was  not  to  be  denied.
Why  he  has  ceased  to  love  I  do  not  know,
I  never  loved  him  then  as  I  love  now;
More  wildly   dear  he  grows  each   day  to  me,
While  he  now  longs  to  leave  me  utterly.
