Louise SmithHerbert broke our engagement of eight yearsWhen Annabelle returned to the village From theSeminary, ah me!If I had let my love for him aloneIt might have grown into a beautiful sorrow—Who knows?—filling my life with healing fragrance.But I tortured it, I poisoned itI blinded its eyes, and it became hatred—Deadly ivy instead of clematis.And my soul fell from its supportIts tendrils tangled in decay.Do not let the will play gardener to your soulUnless you are sureIt is wiser than your soul’s nature.
Herbert broke our engagement of eight yearsWhen Annabelle returned to the village From theSeminary, ah me!If I had let my love for him aloneIt might have grown into a beautiful sorrow—Who knows?—filling my life with healing fragrance.But I tortured it, I poisoned itI blinded its eyes, and it became hatred—Deadly ivy instead of clematis.And my soul fell from its supportIts tendrils tangled in decay.Do not let the will play gardener to your soulUnless you are sureIt is wiser than your soul’s nature.