Poems (Stuart)/Shrift

by Muriel Stuart

SHRIFT.

I am not true, but you would pardon thisIf you could see the tortured spirit takeIts place beside you in the dark, and breakYour daily food of love and kindliness.You'd guess the bitter thing that treachery is,Furtive and on its guard, asleep, awake,Fearing to sin, yet fearing to forsake,And daily giving Christ the Judas kiss.

But piteous amends I make each dayTo recompense the evil with the good;With double pang I play the double partOf all you trust and all that I betray.What long atonement makes my penitent blood,To what sad tryst goes my unfaithful heart!