CHAPTER IV.
“WHEN WE TWO PARTED.”
Nay—sometimes seems it I could even bear
To lay down humbly this love-crown I wear,
Steal from my palace, helpless, hopeless, poor,
And see another queen it at the door—
If only that the king had done no wrong,
If this my palace where I dwelt so long
Were not defiled by falsehood entering in.
There is no loss but change; no death but sin;
No parting, save the slow corrupting pain