XI.

A year! How slight a space

When winged with ecstasy!

( An æon dark to me. )

He has brought her home — God lend me grace!

To-night in the throng I shall see his face —

He has long forgotten me.

A year! I have learned to smile,

I have taught my eyes to lie,

I have lived and laughed and sung — the while

I have only longed to die.