Jump to content

Page:Poems Holley.djvu/118

From Wikisource
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
110
COMFORT.
You were but a child, and poor, and tired,
Tired of toil and strife;
And you only thought of rest, poor dove,
When you sold your beautiful life.

Alas, for the hour I entered in
Your halls of lordly mirth;
For I lost there, Jenny Allen,
All that gives life worth;
You taught your teacher, Jenny,
The saddest lesson of earth.

Ah, woe's the hour I ever stepped
Your mansion walls within;
For you loved me, Jenny Allen,
But you never dreamed 'twas sin;
Your heart was white as a lily's heart,
When it drinks the sunshine in.

God pity me, Jenny Allen,
That I ever loved you so,
I would have died to give you peace,
And I only gave you woe;
For your eyes looked like a wounded dove's,
When I told you I must go.

You were but a child, Jenny Allen,
But that hour made you wise;