RAKE-HELL MUSES

Yes; since she knows not need,

Nor walks in blindness,

I may without unkindness

A true thing tell:

Which would be truth, indeed,

Though worse in speaking,

Were her poor footsteps seeking

A pauper's cell.

I judge, then, better far

She now have sorrow,

Than gladness that to-morrow

Might know its knell. -

It may be men there are

Could make of union

A lifelong sweet communion -

A passioned spell;

But I, to save her name

And bring salvation

By altar-affirmation

And bridal bell;

I, by whose rash unshame

These tears come to her: -

My faith would more undo her

Than my farewell!

Chained to me, year by year

My moody madness

Would wither her old gladness

Like famine fell.

She'll take the ill that's near,

And bear the blaming.

‘ Twill pass. Full soon her shaming

They'll cease to yell.

Our unborn, first her moan,

Will grow her guerdon,

Until from blot and burden

A joyance swell;

In that therein she'll own

My good part wholly,

My evil staining solely

My own vile vell.

Of the disgrace, may be

“He shunned to share it,

Being false,” they'll say. I'll bear it;

Time will dispel

The calumny, and prove

This much about me,

That she lives best without me

Who would live well.

That, this once, not self-love

But good intention

Pleads that against convention

We two rebel.

For, is one moonlight dance,

One midnight passion,

A rock whereon to fashion

Life's citadel?

Prove they their power to prance

Life's miles together

From upper slope to nether

Who trip an ell?

- Years hence, or now apace,

May tongues be calling

News of my further falling

Sinward pell-mell:

Then this great good will grace

Our lives’ division,

She's saved from more misprision

Though I plumb hell.