HE comes not -- I have watched the moon go down, But yet he comes not -- Once it was not so. He thinks not how these bitter tears do flow, The while he holds his riot in that town. Yet he will come, and chide, and I shall weep; And he will wake my infant from its sleep, To blend its feeble wailing with my tears. O! how I love a mother's watch to keep, Over those sleeping eyes, that smile, which cheers My heart, though sunk in sorrow, fixed and deep. I had a husband once, who loved me -- now He ever wears a frown upon his brow, And feeds his passion on a wanton's lip, As bees, from laurel flowers, a poison sip; But yet I cannot hate -- O! there were hours, When I could hang forever on his eye, And time, who stole with silent swiftness by, Strewed, as he hurried on, his path with flowers. I loved him then -- he loved me too -- My heart Still finds its fondness kindle, if he smile; The memory of our loves will ne'er depart; And though he often sting me with a dart, Venomed and bared, and waste upon the vile Caresses, which his babe and mine should share; Though he should spurn me, I will calmly bear His madness -- and should sickness come, and lay Its paralyzing hand upon him, then I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay, Until the penitent should weep, and say, How injured, and how faithful I had been. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PISGAH SIGHTS by ROBERT BROWNING ROSE AYLMER by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR A STRIP OF BLUE by LUCY LARCOM THE TWO MASKS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A FARMHOUSE DIRGE by ALFRED AUSTIN NELL COOK; A LEGEND OF THE 'DARK ENTRY': THE KING'S SCHOLAR'S STORY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |