To hear my story, hear the whole of it?
And with a shamefaced air and reddened cheek
That “others know it all, and why not thou?”
Who has been talking to thee of me, then;
Setting thee on to question and suspect?
Ah, boy, with eyes still full of childish dreams,
And yet with manhood on the firm young lip,
’Tis a hard thing to ask me, and a strange!
A woman does not easily lay bare
Her history, which is her very heart,