Century Magazine/Volume 47/Issue 5/A Dialogue

               THE FAITHLESS LOVER.

O life, dear Life, in this fair house
     Long since did I, it seems to me,
In some mysterious, doleful way
     Fall out of love with thee.

For, Life, thou art become a ghost,
     A memory of days gone by;
A poor forsaken thing between
     A heartache and a sigh.

And now, with shadows from the hills
     Thronging the twilight, wraith on wraith,
Unlock the door and let me go
     To thy dark rival Death!

               THE FAITHFUL LOVE.

O Heart, dear Heart, in this fair house
     Why hast thou wearied and grown tired,
Between a morning and a night,
     Of all thy soul desired?

Fond one, who cannot understand
     Even these shadows on the floor,
Yet must be dreaming of dark loves
     And joys beyond my door!

But I am beautiful past all
     The timid tumult of thy mood,
And thou, returning not, must still
     Be mine in solitude.