And I bartered all I had.
I, with the warmth of a child at my breast—
Am bad, hopelessly bad!
Yet the power that molded my little son,
Is the same that moved for the wedded one;
Creation’s woes were just the same;
Had he only borne a father’s name.
Did love, that old fashioned universe
Fashion alike my curse?
Listen, you who are true and good,