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52
LOVED TOO LATE.
  The heart that was broken for me,—
    Poor heart!
  Cruelly broken for me!

I told her an artist should wed his art,—
  That only his love should be;
No other should lure me from mine apart,
I said; and my cold words chilled her heart,
  The heart that was breaking for me,—
    Poor heart!
  Hopelessly breaking for me!

I spoke of the beautiful years to come,
  In the lands beyond the sea,—
Those years which must he so wearisome
To her; but her patient lips were dumb:
  In silence it broke for me,—
    Poor heart!
  Broke, yet complained not for me!

I pressed her hand, and rebuked her tears
  Lightly and carelessly;
I said my triumphs should reach her ears,
And left her alone with the dismal years