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edith to morton.
Nay, hadst thou e'en proved false to me,
I would have loved thee on,
And thought of all thy tenderness
In days 'twere past and gone.
I would have loved thee on,
And thought of all thy tenderness
In days 'twere past and gone.
But recreant to thy dearest trust,
A traitor to thy king!—
I shame me that an act of thine,
Could tears of sorrow bring
A traitor to thy king!—
I shame me that an act of thine,
Could tears of sorrow bring
From out the heart that's deeply vowed
Thy image to forget,
Though every fiber of the soul
Be strung with deep regret.
Thy image to forget,
Though every fiber of the soul
Be strung with deep regret.
Then seek not, traitor! dare not seek
An interview with me;
Indignant shame would flush my cheek
If I should look on thee!
An interview with me;
Indignant shame would flush my cheek
If I should look on thee!
