Poems (Chitwood)/I Dreamed not Thou didst Love Me
I DREAMED NOT THOU DIDST LOVE ME.A REPLY TO "I KNEW NOT THAT I LOVED HER."
I dreamed not thou didst love me! Too late the words were said;I saw thy tear-drops falling, Too late those tears were shed,I never thought to win thee, So proud and cold wast thou,—To see the blushes drifting In crimson o'er thy brow!
I dreamed not thou didst love me! I thought thee heartless, stern, That thy proud spirit never For human love would yearn;Yet had I dared to worship Fervently and long,In solitude and silence, In sunshine and in song.
Through hours of wildest sorrow, Through years of dark despair,How fervently I loved thee, No language may declare;How far my pride misled me, How well the mask was worn,How bled beneath the jewels The brow with thistles torn.
I dreamed not thou didst love me! Why came the knowledge—whyThis bright star in the morning, When the weary night was by?While yearning in the darkness, And weeping for its ray,It came not in the midnight, Why mock me in the day?
I dreamed not thou didst love me, Nor thou my love couldst know,—Each pining for the other, Both smiling in our woe!Had then some chance revealed us, Some smile, or word, or look, What vows might now be written In life's recording book!
The eating, wasting canker Of silent woe concealedThe inner throb and flutter Of the breast that pride hath steeled,The weary task of smiling In fashion's crowded mart,The slow, continuous torture Of the fire within the heart!
All this we bore in silence,— All this for weary years;Then came the fearful knowledge, Then came thy tardy tears!I turned, it may be coldly, From that wild plea of thine,For another heart was throbbing In every pulse with mine.
Go, go! the world hath many, The good, the pure, and fair;To take to thy heart some blossom, And wear it gently there;And bless the chance that drifted Our life-barques far apart—Forget that thou didst cherish My memory in thy heart!