A SHATTERED IDOL.

O blame me not for the cruel words

In a moment of madness said;

The shadow that fell upon my life

Is cold as the shrouded dead.

Deem not I am hard and heartless;

My tears are as warm as thine;

‘ Twas clay that I crowned and worshipped,

And wept o'er its crumbled shrine.

To me, my passionate, deathless soul,

Was less than his finger-tips;

He turned away fro the gold of my love

For the dross on a wanton's lips.

My faith in his truth is broken —

Even truth itself is a lie.

I have cursed him!— but I love him,

And I'll love him till I die.