Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/268

When thou dost hold and clasp her hand in thine, Does not the thought of woes that once possessed, Make all the sweeter now her smile divine ? Wander ye not together, thou and she, Midst blooming woods, on sands like silver bright ? Does not the white wraith of the aspen-tree In that green palace, mark the path at night ? And seest thou not, within the moon's pale ray. Her lovely form sink on thy breast again ? If thou shouldst meet with Fortune on thy way, Wouldst thou not follow singing, in her train? What hast thou to regret ? Immortal Hope Is shaped anew in thee by Sorrow's hand. Why hate experience that enlarged thy scope ? Why curse the pain that made thy soul expand? Oh pity her ! so false, so fair to see. Who from thine eyes such bitter tears did press. She was a woman. God revealed to thee. Through her, the secret of all happiness. Her task was hard ; she loved thee, it may be. Yet must she break thy heart, so fate decreed. She knew the world, she taught it unto thee, Another reaps the fruit of her misdeed. Pity her I dreamlike did her love dbperse. She saw thy wound —- nor could thy pain remove.