THE GHOST OF LOVE.
Thou art a specious pleader,
But thou dost plead in vain.
Though once I loved, and trusted,
My love and trust thou’st slain.
Though in the past were hidden
Thy many faults from me;
As phantoms they now haunt me,
As ghosts, those faults I see.
The mask that ever covered
The evil in thy life,
From thy false face hath fallen,
And now thy passions rife
Stand out in greatest contrast
From what they seemed in past.
To me ’tis revelation—
With awe I stand aghast.
And feel a sense of horror,
That love should come to me
For one whose life was hideous,
But now,—Thank God I’m free!
Free from the ties that bound me,
Free from the chains of ill.—
Thy love no more enthralls me,
And yet—O heart be still!
I find that love, and pity
Lie deep within my heart.
I cannot, cannot hate thee—
Thou art of life a part.
Farewell! Farewell! ’Tis better
For both; that we are free.
For life, when trust hath left us
Is naught but misery.