There! I knew I was going to cry;—
I have kept the tears in my soul too long:
Oh! let me say it, or I shall die,—
As heaven is witness, I mean no wrong.
He never shall hear from this secret room,
He never shall know in the after-years,
How seventeen summers of happy bloom
Fell dead, one night, in a moment of tears!
I loved him more than she understands.
For him I loaded my soul with truth;