Poems (1898)/Conscience
For other versions of this work, see Conscience (Coates).
CONSCIENCE
The friend I loved betrayed my trust
And bowed my spirit to the dust.
I keep the hurt he gave, yet know
He was forgiven long ago.
From him I did not merit ill,
But I would bear injustice still,—
Content could years of guiltless woe
Undo the wrong I did my foe.