To him, whose perjured heart hath broke its truth;
While the just world beholding thee bereft,
Scorns—not his sin—but thee, for being left!
* * * * * *
“Those whom man, not God, hath parted know,
A heavier pang, a more enduring woe;
No softening memory mingles with their tears,
Still the wound rankles on through dreary years,
Still the heart feels, in bitterest hours of blame
It dares not curse the long familiar name;