Should Hagar weep? May slighted woman turn,
And as a vine the oak hath shaken off,
Bend lightly to her tendencies again?
Oh no! by all her loveliness, by all
That makes life poetry and beauty, no!
Make her a slave; steal from her rosy cheek
By needless jealousies; let the last star
Leave her a watcher by your couch of pain;
Wrong her by petulance, suspicion, all
That makes her cup a bitterness—yet give