Verses from Maoriland/Forsaken
FORSAKEN
(A Modern Woman speaks)
I cannot blame you, though a passing-bell Toll in mine ears, and deaden other sound, And stars seem dimmer as the years roll round; I cannot blame you;—you have chosen well.
I loved you, love you; but I am not weak; You would not know it, looking in mine eyes; My heartache is not proved by tears or sighs, Nor has the colour faded from my cheek.
When first I heard, I did not start, nor cry,— I think I smiled!—we did not stand alone, And though my heart seemed stiffened into stone, No keen-eyed watcher guessed my agony.
How should I blame you? never definite word, And never promise passed between us two; You never said you loved me,—true, so true!— But what your own heart whisper’d, my heart heard!
Did you not love me? Ah, the passionate bliss Of sudden meetings when we feared to speak, For strongest feeling ever makes us weak, Being too strong for spoken word or kiss.
Did you not love me? Ah, the joys and sorrows Of those past days! the silent walks, the rides. Down the long valleys, up the steep hill-sides; Ah friend! the sadness now of these To-morrows!
I know you loved me in those days of old, But Prudence bade you pause a little while, And so you waited,—and your look, your smile, Entranced me still, although your love grew cold.
And then you saw my soul was made to roam Above convention on a wild-bird’s wings; I could not give my heart to humdrum things, The little sordid cares of house and home.
Did you not love me?—much against your will! I was too bold, too modern, and too free; Outspoken as a woman should not be,— You disapproved,—and yet you loved me still!
One of the twain must conquer, one submit: Which were the harder, which more full of rack?— For me to rein my fiery spirit back? For you to spur your soul to roam with it?
I know it all! A lifelong fight for me To stand without forbidden fields of thought; Perhaps some peace at last,—too dearly bought At cost of individuality!
Far better as it is, and yet,—the pain!— Not even the Modern Woman can conquer Fate It is so hard to work alone, and wait; I love you, Dear, so dearly! all in vain—
But you who choose the well-worn path of life, And wish no straying from the beaten track, Not even you could call my wild soul back, Or mould me to your will, the model wife.
I cannot blame you, for I love her too; Graceful she is, and gracious: pure, and sweet; A fitting mate; from dainty hands and feet To shining hair, tender, and kind, and true.
Go to her, and be happy; fare you well!— While I must walk alone, and wait, and pray For you and yours; but on your wedding-day I hear no sound but of a passing-bell.