Modern Love XXIV: The Misery Is Greater

 The misery is greater, as I live! 
To know her flesh so pure, so keen her sense, 
That she does penance now for no offence, 
Save against Love.
 The less can I forgive! 
The less can I forgive, though I adore 
That cruel lovely pallor which surrounds 
Her footsteps; and the low vibrating sounds 
That come on me, as from a magic shore.
 
Low are they, but most subtle to find out 
The shrinking soul.
 Madam, 'tis understood 
When women play upon their womanhood; 
It means, a Season gone.
 And yet I doubt 
But I am duped.
 That nun-like look waylays 
My fancy.
 Oh! I do but wait a sign! 
Pluck out the eyes of pride! thy mouth to mine! 
Never! though I die thirsting.
 Go thy ways!

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