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WOMEN ARE PEOPLE!
IV
TO HIS LOVE, REPROACHING HER WITH AN UNKINDNESS
O, Mabel, you have wounded me beyond
All words—have dimmed our love's initial splendour;
I, who had thought you faithful, reverent, fond,
Am filled with doubts of your complete surrender.
Last evening when the argent car of night
Went up the sky with many a starry minion,
You, without asking me if you were right,
Expressed a clear, impersonal opinion,
A judgment, a belief, an abstract thought;
And though I frowned and held myself aloof,
And murmured sternly: "Nothing of the sort,"
You did not seem to notice the reproof.
O, Mabel, cease to think, or how can we
Be certain we shall never disagree?
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