Man's Devotion

A lover said, 'O Maiden, love me well, For I must go away: And should ANOTHER ever come to tell Of love--What WILL you say?' And she let fall a royal robe of hair That folded on his arm And made a golden pillow for her there; Her face--as bright a charm As ever setting held in kingly crown-- Made answer with a look, And reading it, the lover bended down, And, trusting, 'kissed the book.' He took a fond farewell and went away. And slow the time went by-- So weary--dreary was it, day by day To love, and wait, and sigh. She kissed his pictured face sometimes, and said: 'O Lips, so cold and dumb, I would that you would tell me, if not dead, Why, why do you not come?' The picture, smiling, stared her in the face Unmoved--e'en with the touch Of tear-drops--HERS--bejeweling the case-- 'Twas plain--she loved him much. And, thus she grew to think of him as gay And joyous all the while, And SHE was sorrowing--'Ah, welladay!' But pictures ALWAYS smile! And years--dull years--in dull monotony As ever went and came, Still weaving changes on unceasingly, And changing, changed her name. Was she untrue?--She oftentimes was glad And happy as a wife; But ONE remembrance oftentimes made sad Her matrimonial life.-- Though its few years were hardly noted, when Again her path was strown With thorns--the roses swept away again, And she again alone! And then--alas! ah THEN!--her lover came: 'I come to claim you now-- My Darling, for I know you are the same, And I have kept my vow Through these long, long, long years, and now no more Shall we asundered be!' She staggered back and, sinking to the floor, Cried in her agony: 'I have been false!' she moaned, '_I_ am not true-- I am not worthy now, Nor ever can I be a wife to YOU-- For I have broke my vow!' And as she kneeled there, sobbing at his feet, He calmly spoke--no sign Betrayed his inward agony--'I count you meet To be a wife of mine!' And raised her up forgiven, though untrue; As fond he gazed on her, She sighed,--'SO HAPPY!' And she never knew HE was a WIDOWER.