THAT I am writing you this letter Will tell you all; and you are free Now to despise me; and how better, I wonder, could you punish me? But you, if you are sparing ever One drop of pity for my fate, Will not have left me desolate. I wished at first, believe me, never To say a word, and then my shame Had been unknown to you; small blame Could I have hoped, but once a week Here in our village, when you came, To see you, and to hear you speak, And pass a single word of greeting, Think of you only, night and day, And wait -- until another meeting. You are not sociable, they say; The solitude, the country bore you. We are not smart in any way; But always had a welcome for you. Why came you? why to us? alone, In this forgotten hamlet hidden, I never should have known you, known This bitterness of pangs unbidden. And these emotions would have slept, My soul its quiet ignorance kept: -- So, in due season, might I find, Who knows? a husband to my mind; Have been a true wife -- to another, A pious honourable mother. "Another!" ... I would ne'er have given To living man, this heart of mine! This was the will of highest heaven, This was appointed: -- I am thine! All my past life assurance gave That we should meet -- as though to bind me; God sent thee here, I know, to find me, And thou wilt guard me to my grave. ... Thou camest oft in visions to me; Wert dear, although I knew not thee; Thy tones reverberated through me, Thy gaze absorbed, enchanted me Long since. ... But no, I was not dreaming! Straight, when thou camest, not in seeming, I knew thee, I took fire, stood numb, And my heart told me, "He is come!" Is it not so? Of old believing I heard thee speak, I listened there To thee in quiet, giving care To my poor folk, or while relieving My sick and troubled soul in prayer. Art thou, to-day, not he who came Flashed through the luminous darkness, nearing My very pillow? just the same Beloved vision, reappearing? Art thou a guardian angel to me, Or crafty tempter to undo me? Resolve my doubts and my confusion; It may be, this is all for nought And an untutored soul's illusion, And fate quite otherwise has wrought. But be it thus; henceforth I yield me, And all my fate, into thy hand; I weep, and here before thee stand, Entreating only that thou shield me. Conceive it: I am here, and lonely; None understands me, and if only My reason were not faint and weak! But I am lost, unless I speak. I wait on thee; one look will waken The hopes with which my heart is shaken; Or -- the dream snap its heavy spell At one reproach -- deserved too well! No more of this; I dread to read it; Yet though I sink with fear and shame, Your honour keeps me safe; I plead it, And to it boldly put my name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE ROAD TO CHORRERA by ARLO BATES A TIME TO TALK by ROBERT FROST THE AMERICAN FOREST GIRL by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE QUEEN FORGETS by GEORGE STERLING STARTING FROM PAUMANOK by WALT WHITMAN PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 37. AL-HALI by EDWIN ARNOLD PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 55. ALLAH-AL-MATEEN by EDWIN ARNOLD |