XVII.
Had he seen thee when he swore
He would love but me alone?
Thou wast absent, sent before
To our kin in Sidmouth town.
When he saw thee who art best
Past compare, and loveliest.
He but judged thee as the rest.
XVIII.
Could we blame him with grave words,
Thou and I, Dear, if we might?
Thy brown eyes have looks like birds
Flying straightway to the light:
Mine are older.—Hush!—look out—
Up the street! Is none without?
How the poplar swings about!
XIX.
And that hour—beneath the beech,
When I listened in a dream,
And he said in his deep speech
That he owed me all esteem,—
Each word swam in on my brain
With a dim, dilating pain,
Till it burst with that last strain.
XX.
I fell flooded with a dark,
In the silence of a swoon.
When I rose, still cold and stark,
There was night; I saw the moon
And the stars, each in its place,
And the May-blooms on the grass,
Seemed to wonder what I was.
XXI.
And I walked as if apart
From myself, when I could stand,
And I pitied my own heart,
As if I held it in my hand—
Somewhat coldly, with a sense
Of fulfilled benevolence,
And a "Poor thing" negligence.