II — A Year Later

I skimmed the strings; I sang quite low;

I hoped she would not come or know

That the house next door was the one now dittied,

Not hers, as when I had played unpitied;

- Next door, where dwelt a heart fresh stirred,

My new Love, of good will to me,

Unlike my old Love chill to me,

Who had not cared for my notes when heard:

Yet that old Love came

To the other's name

As hers were the claim;

Yea, the old Love came

My viol sank mute, my tongue stood still,

I tried to sing on, but vain my will:

I prayed she would guess of the later, and leave me;

She stayed, as though, were she slain by the smart,

She would bear love's burn for a newer heart.

The tense-drawn moment wrought to bereave me

Of voice, and I turned in a dumb despair

At her finding I'd come to another there.

Sick I withdrew

At love's grim hue

Ere my last Love knew;

Sick I withdrew.