I HAD thought to bury my love too deep for tears Beyond the prying gaze of the phantom years, I had wish'd to fold the past in its hooded shroud, But ever the spirit within me cried aloud— O the joy that may never awaken In the bosom by love forsaken! I had thought to quell this aching at my heart, In the duties of wife and mother to play my part, But that which makes the light of the home alway Lay buried amid the blooms on my bridal day. O the joy that may never awaken In the bosom by love forsaken! I could not marry the man my heart required, So I gave to another the heart that he desired —My heart in a casket of lead. O God above, Was ever a gift more wanton than loveless love! O the joy that may never awaken In the bosom by love forsaken! I did not think at the time of the dual wrong,— Any haven allures when the waters of grief run strong,— Despite of love, I had hoped to love again: Too late—too late, I know that that hope is vain! O the joy that may never awaken In the bosom by love forsaken! His wife! Ah me—! And @3yet@1 I am not his own! For my heart leaps up at another's look or tone. Nothing—oh nothing, can ever recall the past! And the curse of that marriage vow must for ever last! O the joy that may never awaken In the heart of a woman by Love forsaken! |