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In A Year

 Never any more,
While I live,
Need I hope to see his face
As before.
Once his love grown chill, Mine may strive: Bitterly we re-embrace, Single still.
Was it something said, Something done, Vexed him? was it touch of hand, Turn of head? Strange! that very way Love begun: I as little understand Love's decay.
When I sewed or drew, I recall How he looked as if I sung, ---Sweetly too.
If I spoke a word, First of all Up his cheek the colour sprang, Then he heard.
Sitting by my side, At my feet, So he breathed but air I breathed, Satisfied! I, too, at love's brim Touched the sweet: I would die if death bequeathed Sweet to him.
``Speak, I love thee best!'' He exclaimed: ``Let thy love my own foretell!'' I confessed: ``Clasp my heart on thine ``Now unblamed, ``Since upon thy soul as well ``Hangeth mine!'' VI.
Was it wrong to own, Being truth? Why should all the giving prove His alone? I had wealth and ease, Beauty, youth: Since my lover gave me love, I gave these.
That was all I meant, ---To be just, And the passion I had raised, To content.
Since he chose to change Gold for dust, If I gave him what he praised Was it strange? VIII.
Would he loved me yet, On and on, While I found some way undreamed ---Paid my debt! Gave more life and more, Till, all gone, He should smile ``She never seemed ``Mine before.
``What, she felt the while, ``Must I think? ``Love's so different with us men!'' He should smile: ``Dying for my sake--- ``White and pink! ``Can't we touch these bubbles then ``But they break?'' X.
Dear, the pang is brief, Do thy part, Have thy pleasure! How perplexed Grows belief! Well, this cold clay clod Was man's heart: Crumble it, and what comes next? Is it God?

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