Creeds are well in such a case;
But no sermon could have wrought
More of faith than you have taught
With your pale, dead face.
And I see it as you see—
One mistake, so very small!
Yet so great it mangled all,
Left you this and me!
Oft I pondered saying, "Sure
She could never live such life!"
And the truth stabbed like a knife
When I found you pure.
Pure, so pure! and me bemoiled,
Loathly as loathed vermin, just
As weak souls are left of lust—
Loveless, low, and soiled.
Nay! I loved you then and love!—
Grand, great eyes, I see them yet,
Set like luminous gems of jet
In wax lids above.
Lips—O poor, dumb, chideless lips!
Once as red as life could make,
Moist as wan wild roses wake
When the wild dew drips.
Hair—imperial, full, and warm
As a Grace's, where one stone
Precious lay ensnared and shone
Like a star in storm.
Eyes—at parting big with pain;
God! I see them and the tear
In them—big as eyes of deer
Led by lights and slain!
Life so true! I falsely cursed—
Lips that, curled with scorn and pride,
Hurt me though I said they lied,
While the true heart burst.
Rest! my heart has suffered too:
And this life had woe enough
For the little dole of love
Given to me and you.