A Life Term
She was false, and he was true,—
Thus their lives were rent apart;
'Twas his dagger driven through
A mad rival's heart.
He was shut away. The moon
May not find him; nor the stars—
Nay, nor yet the sun of noon
Pierce his prison bars.
She was left—again to sin—
Mistress of all siren arts:
The poor, soulless heroine
Of a hundred hearts!
Though she dare not think of him
Who believed her lies, and so
Sent a ghost adown the dim
Path she dreads to go,—
He, in fancy, smiling, sips
Of her kisses, purer yet
Than the dew upon the lips
Of the violet.
Thus their lives were rent apart;
'Twas his dagger driven through
A mad rival's heart.
He was shut away. The moon
May not find him; nor the stars—
Nay, nor yet the sun of noon
Pierce his prison bars.
She was left—again to sin—
Mistress of all siren arts:
The poor, soulless heroine
Of a hundred hearts!
Though she dare not think of him
Who believed her lies, and so
Sent a ghost adown the dim
Path she dreads to go,—
He, in fancy, smiling, sips
Of her kisses, purer yet
Than the dew upon the lips
Of the violet.
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