IX.

What poisoned pen has written

The words that bar my breath;

What hard, harsh hand has smitten

My soul with death?

“Love, my love” — these the words I read —

“The vision and dream of a life have died.

Hurt to the heart by the words you said,

Angered, stung by a wounded pride,

Mad with the thought that your love was dead —

I have wedded a loveless, unloved bride —

Would I had died instead!”

My heart refuses to understand

The words that burn my brain;

Palsied, stunned by a felling blow

Struck by a cherished hand,

I am all too numb for pain;

Dead to a deathless woe,

Helpless to understand,

Shall I ever feel again?