THE BLAMELESS PRINCE
"We have been alone these years, and knew it not,"
She said; "now let us on the knowledge thrive!"
So closed the doors, and all things else forgot
Than her own misery. "I cannot live
And bear this death," she said, "nor die, the more
To meet him,—and that woman gone before!"
Thus with herself she writhed, while midnight gloomed,
As lone as any outcast of us all;
And once, without a purpose, as the doomed
Stare round and count the shadows on the wall,
Unclasped a poet's book which near her lay,
And turned its pages in that witless way,
And read the song, some wise, sad man had made,
With bitter frost about his doubting heart.
"What is this life," it plained, "what masquerade
Of which ye all are witnesses and part?
'Tis but a foolish, smiling face to wear
Above your mortal sorrow, chill despair;
"To mock your comrades and yourselves with mirth
That feels the care ye cannot drive away;
To vaunt of health, yet hide beneath the girth
Impuissance, fell sickness, slow decay;
To cloak defeat, and with the rich, the great,
Applaud their fairer fortunes as they mate;
"To brave the sudden woe, the secret loss,
Though but to-morrow brings the open shame;
To pay the tribute of your caste, and toss
Your last to him that's richer save in name;
To judge your peers, and give the doleful meed
To crime that's white beside your hidden deed;
"To whisper love, where of true love is none,—
Desire, where lust is dead; to live unchaste,
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