Poems (Freston)/Deserted

by Elizabeth Heléne Freston

DESERTED

It did not come upon her unawares,
But crept up slowly, slowly coming near,
Sending its couriers of troubled cares,
Of dark suspicion and of breathless fear,

Deserted! silent in her quiet room,
She bravely faces the dark truth, at last,
Too strong for tears, she mutely meets her doom,
While memory brings her visions of the past,

And he for whose dear sake she swandered all
That life had given,—love and fame and name
And innocence,—had gone beyond her call
And never more would come as once he came,

With eyes of glowing eagerness, to light
The darkness into which she followed him,
With love-words, kisses and such coin,—so bright
In woman's eyes she will give all for them.

Across the board a pair of laughing lips
Smile back in answer to his merry glance.
They laugh the old year out, the new year in,
With clink of glasses, music and the dance.

Does any memory come of that small room,
To mar the music for him, as they sing?
Where sits, in silent woe, that one for whom
All hope is dead, and life a worthless thing.

For her no new love blossoms on life's tree,
Her future glooms out starless and forlorn;
He laughs with joy the New Year's face to see,—
For the deserted, no new year is born.