Poems (Terry, 1861)/La coquette

by Rose Terry Cooke

LA COQUETTE.

You look at me with tender eyes,
That, had you worn a month ago,
Had slain me with divine surprise:—
But now I do not see them glow.

I laugh to hear your laughter take
A softer thrill, a doubtful tone,—
I know you do it for my sake.
You rob the nest whose bird is flown.

Not twice a fool, if twice a child!
I know you now, and care no more
For any lie you may have smiled,
Than that starved beggar at your door.

He has the remnants of your feast;
You offer me your wasted heart!
He may enact the welcome guest;
I shake the dust off and depart.

If you had known a woman's grace
And pitied me who died for you,
I could not look you in the face,
When now you tell me you are "true."

True!—If the fallen seraphs wear
A lovelier face of false surprise
Than you at my unmoving air,
There is no truth this side the skies.

But thisis true, that once I loved.—
You scorned and laughed to see me die;
And now you think the heart so proved
Beneath your feet again shall lie!

I had the pain when you had power;
Now mine the power, who reaps the pain?
You sowed the wind in that black hour;
Receive the whirlwind for your gain!