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HERE was I with my arm and heart"
And brain, all yours for a word, a want Put into a look-just a look, your part,
While mine, to repay it . . . vainest vaunt, Were the woman, that 's dead, alive to hear,
Had her lover, that is lost, love's proof to show! But I cannot show it; you cannot speak
From the churchyard neither, miles removed, Though I feel by a pulse within my cheek, ,
Which stabs and stops, that the woman I loved Needs help in her grave and finds none near,
Wants warmth from the heart which sends it-80!
2 Did I speak once angrily, all the drear days
You lived, you woman I loved so well, Who married the other? Blame or praise,
Where was the use then ? Time would tell, And the end declare what man for you,
What woman for me was the choice of God.
I used to sit and look at my life
A great stone stopped it: oh, the strife
In my life's midcurrent, thwarting God!
3. But either I thought, “ They may churn and chide
Awhile, my waves which came for their joy And found this horrible stone full-tide:
Yet I see just a thread escape, deploy Through the evening-country, silent and safe,
And it suffers no more till it finds the sea.” Or else I would think, “ Perhaps some night
When new things happen, a meteor-ball May slip through the sky in a line of light,
And earth breathe hard, and landmarks fall, And my waves no longer champ nor chafe,
Since a stone will have rolled from its place : let
But, dead! All 's done with : wait who may,
Watch and wear and wonder who will. Oh, my whole life that ends to-day !
Oh, my soul's sentence, sounding still, “ The woman is dead, that was none of his;
And the man, that was none of hers, may go!" There 's only the past left: worry that!
Wreak, like a bull, on the empty coat, Rage, its late wearer is laughing at !
Tear the collar to rags, having missed his throat; Strike stupidly on—"This, this and this,
Where I would that a bosom received the blow !"
I ought to have done more: once my speech,
And once your answer, and there, the end, And Edith was henceforth out of reach !
Why, men do more to deserve a friend, Be rid of a foe, get rich, grow wise,
Nor, folding their arms, stare fate in the face.
And borne you away to a rock for us two
Then changed to myself again—“I slew
Somewhere: your slave, see, born in his place !"