10
the story of two lives.
Await me Love! enfranchised on that shore,
The world's false claims assert their rule no more!—
I dare not live. I dare not once again
Fold round my soul those weary bonds of pain,
And, with a hideous mockery, resume
My life of yore—a dead man from the tomb.
My voice sounds strangely for familiar speech—
And how through these remorseful spasms reach
The polished jargon, which must be the food
Of worldly needs. I would not if I could!
The world's false claims assert their rule no more!—
I dare not live. I dare not once again
Fold round my soul those weary bonds of pain,
And, with a hideous mockery, resume
My life of yore—a dead man from the tomb.
My voice sounds strangely for familiar speech—
And how through these remorseful spasms reach
The polished jargon, which must be the food
Of worldly needs. I would not if I could!
I dare not now deceive myself; I know
I never loved her as I love her now.
I love her with her shame; I love her sin;
Not the pure child who first my love did win,
But the lost woman, fallen, desperate,
Brute passion's hireling slave, the purchased mate
Of villains, and of fools, a mark for scorn;
Not the white flower which from my youth was torn,
But the poor ravaged weed, which I flung down
To be a byword for the virtuous town.
I try to image thee as thou wert then;
I see thee, prey and toy of dastard men.
I never loved her as I love her now.
I love her with her shame; I love her sin;
Not the pure child who first my love did win,
But the lost woman, fallen, desperate,
Brute passion's hireling slave, the purchased mate
Of villains, and of fools, a mark for scorn;
Not the white flower which from my youth was torn,
But the poor ravaged weed, which I flung down
To be a byword for the virtuous town.
I try to image thee as thou wert then;
I see thee, prey and toy of dastard men.
