THE GHOST OF LOVE.
Thou art a specious pleader,But thou dost plead in vain.Though once I loved, and trusted,My love and trust thou’st slain.Though in the past were hiddenThy many faults from me;As phantoms they now haunt me,As ghosts, those faults I see.The mask that ever coveredThe evil in thy life,From thy false face hath fallen,And now thy passions rifeStand out in greatest contrastFrom what they seemed in past.To me ’tis revelation—With awe I stand aghast.And feel a sense of horror,That love should come to meFor one whose life was hideous,But now,—Thank God I’m free!Free from the ties that bound me,Free from the chains of ill.—Thy love no more enthralls me,And yet—O heart be still!I find that love, and pityLie deep within my heart.I cannot, cannot hate thee—Thou art of life a part.Farewell! Farewell! ’Tis betterFor both; that we are free.For life, when trust hath left usIs naught but misery.
Thou art a specious pleader,But thou dost plead in vain.Though once I loved, and trusted,My love and trust thou’st slain.Though in the past were hiddenThy many faults from me;As phantoms they now haunt me,As ghosts, those faults I see.The mask that ever coveredThe evil in thy life,From thy false face hath fallen,And now thy passions rifeStand out in greatest contrastFrom what they seemed in past.To me ’tis revelation—With awe I stand aghast.And feel a sense of horror,That love should come to meFor one whose life was hideous,But now,—Thank God I’m free!Free from the ties that bound me,Free from the chains of ill.—Thy love no more enthralls me,And yet—O heart be still!I find that love, and pityLie deep within my heart.I cannot, cannot hate thee—Thou art of life a part.Farewell! Farewell! ’Tis betterFor both; that we are free.For life, when trust hath left usIs naught but misery.