“YOU MAY WANDER AFAR; BUT, GO WHERE YOU WILL,

Another comes — a girl-face, worn,

And of every good resolution shorn,—

She utters no word; but her eyes of blue

Are burning, piercing me through and through!

Yet another comes and takes Her place ——

I close my eyes lest I see HER face ——

For the flush of youth on the girlish brow

Is lost in the wanton woman now —

And I was to blame! God, let me forget!

And I wipe away the beads of sweat

That lie on my brow like blood-red rain ——

And I try to pray — but words are vain;—

For I know that the ghosts of my sins are here

To mock me at this, the end o’ th’ Year!