PREFERENCE
Not in scorn do I reprove thee,
Not in pride thy vows I
waive,
But, believe, I could not
love thee,
Wert thou prince, and I
a slave.
These, then, are thine oaths
of passion?
This, thy tenderness for
me?
Judged, even, by thine own
confession,
Thou art steeped in perfidy.
Having vanquished, thou
wouldst leave me!
Thus I read thee long ago;
Therefore, dared I not deceive
thee,
Even with friendship's gentle
show.
Therefore, with impassive
coldness
Have I ever met thy gaze;
Though, full oft, with daring
boldness,
Thou thine eyes to mine
didst raise.
Why that smile? Thou now
art deeming
This my coldness all untrue,--
But a mask of frozen seeming,
Hiding secret fires from
view.
Touch my hand, thou self-deceiver;
Nay-be calm, for I am so:
Does it burn? Does my lip
quiver?
Has mine eye a troubled
glow?
Canst thou call a moment's
colour
To my forehead--to my cheek?
Canst thou tinge their tranquil
pallor
With one flattering, feverish
streak?
Am I marble? What!
no woman
Could so calm before thee
stand?
Nothing living, sentient,
human,
Could so coldly take thy
hand?
Yes--a sister might, a mother:
My good-will is sisterly:
Dream not, then, I strive
to smother
Fires that inly burn for
thee.
Rave not, rage not, wrath
is fruitless,
Fury cannot change my mind;
I but deem the feeling rootless
Which so whirls in passion's
wind.
Can I love? Oh, deeply--truly--
Warmly--fondly--but not
thee;
And my love is answered
duly,
With an equal energy.
Wouldst thou see thy rival?
Hasten,
Draw that curtain soft aside,
Look where yon thick branches
chasten
Noon, with shades of eventide.
In that glade, where foliage
blending
Forms a green arch overhead,
Sits thy rival, thoughtful
bending
O'er a stand with papers
spread--
Motionless, his fingers
plying
That untired, unresting
pen;
Time and tide unnoticed
flying,
There he sits--the first
of men!
Man of conscience--man of
reason;
Stern, perchance, but ever
just;
Foe to falsehood, wrong,
and treason,
Honour's shield, and virtue's
trust!
Worker, thinker, firm defender
Of Heaven's truth--man's
liberty;
Soul of iron--proof to slander,
Rock where founders tyranny.
Fame he seeks not--but full
surely
She will seek him, in his
home;
This I know, and wait securely
For the atoning hour to
come.
To that man my faith is
given,
Therefore, soldier, cease
to sue;
While God reigns in earth
and heaven,
I to him will still be true! |
