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WILLIAM A. DRAKE
629

I never loved, but loved that goddess fair
Who once had life, and who hath made my heart
Her sepulchre. Her long did I adore,
And in her loveliness celestial took
Such pleasure that, though knowing from the first
Full well thy nature and how much of thee
Is artifice and fraud, yet I beheld
Her eyes in thine eyes with the love-light shining;
Loving, I followed thee whilst still she lived,
Never deceived, yet by the pleasure born
Of that sweet semblance led to tolerate
A servitude laborious and long.

Now boast thou, for thou canst. Tell how, alone
Of all thy sex, to thee my head I bowed,
And how my yet indomitable heart
Impulsively its fealty's offering made.
Tell how thou'st seen me, trembling and shy,
With brows beseeching, standing at thy feet
(With grief and shame I blush confessing it!)
Beside myself with adoration deep,
Each sign, each glance, submissively obeying;
How I would pale when thou disdainful wert,
And how my face would brighten at thy grace:
How thus with every slightest glance or word
My brow would burn and all my aspect change.
But broken is that spell; my yoke to earth
Falls shattered at a blow, and I rejoice.
Though heavy are my days with tedium
After such long and fruitless servitude,
Yet am I well contented to embrace
Wisdom with liberty. And if of love
And all its noble errors life's bereft,
Like a starless night in winter's gloom,
Yet for my mortal fate I some support,
Some comfort, some amends can find, as I
Lie idly here upon the grass, unmoved,
And sea, and earth, and sky behold, and smile.