INTROSPECTION.
Is it a crime that I love him, A sin that I think of him still,A shame if his image still haunts me Forever against my will?God knows I have tried to forget him, Have struggled to turn from the past,But it seems that the spell of his spirit About all my being is cast.
A spell that I never have broken— Try ever so hard as I may;—They told me I soon would forget him, God help me! I love him to-day.And yet it is years since we parted, That far away evening in spring;Long years since I gave him his letters And took from my finger his ring.
I had wept as I knelt to my father And pled for my lover that day;
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