II

He called her in from me and shut the door! And I went wandering alone again — So lonely — O so very lonely then, I thought no little sallow star, alone

In all a world of twilight, e'er had known Such utter loneliness. But that I wore Above my heart that gleaming tress of hair To lighten up the night of my despair,

I think I might have groped into my grave Nor cared to wave The ferns above it with a breath of prayer. And how I hungered for the sweet, sweet face

That bent above me in my hiding-place That day amid the grasses there beside Her pleasant home!— “Her pleasant home!” I sighed, Remembering;— then shut my teeth and feigned

The harsh voice calling me,— then clinched my nails So deeply in my palms, the sharp wounds pained, And tossed my face toward heaven, as one who pales In splendid martrydom, with soul serene,

As near to God as high the guillotine. And I had envied her? Not that — O no! But I had longed for some sweet haven so!— Wherein the tempest-beaten heart might ride

Sometimes at peaceful anchor, and abide Where those that loved me touched me with their hands, And looked upon me with glad eyes, and slipped Smooth fingers o'er my brow, and lulled the strands

Of my wild tresses, as they backward tipped My yearning face and kissed it satisfied. Then bitterly I murmured as before,— “He called her in from me and shut the door!”