‘Perhaps she’s dancing somewhere now!’
The thoughts of light and music wake
Sharp jealousies, that grow and grow
Till silence and the darkness ache.
He sees her step, so proud and gay,
Which, ere he spake, foretold despair;
Thus did she look, on such a day,
And such the fashion of her hair;
And thus she stood, when, kneeling low,
He took the bramble from her dress,
And thus she laugh’d and talk’d, whose ‘No’
Was sweeter than another’s ‘Yes.’
He feeds on thoughts that most deject;
He impudently feigns her charms,
So reverenced in his own respect,
Dreadfully clasp’d by other arms;
And turns, and puts his brows, that ache,
Against the pillow where ’tis cold.
If only now his heart would break!
But, oh, how much a heart can hold.