A Woman’s Sonnets: Iv

Should ever the day come when this drear world Shall read the secret which so close I hold, Should taunts and jeers at my bowed head be hurled, And all my love and all my shame be told, I could not, as some doughtier women do, Fling jests and gold and live the scandal down, Nor, knowing all fame's bruitings to be true, Keep a proud face and brave the talk of town. I have no courage for such tricks and ways, No wish to flaunt a once well--honoured name. I have too dear a thought of earlier days, Too deep a dread of my deserved shame. So, when it comes, with one last suppliant cry For pardon from my wronged ones, I must die.