H

Should wear contention on a whiter brow

Than May-day Dian's in her hunting gear?

I'll not believe that eyes so holy-clear

And mouth so constant to its morning prayer

Could mock the mischief of a man's despair

And all the misery of a moment's hope

Seen far away, as mists are seen in air.

xvii.

How can a woman's heart be made of stone

H

H

H

And she not know it? Mine is overthrown.

I have no heart to-day, no perfect one,

Only a thing that sighs at set of sun

And beats its cage, as if the thrall thereof

Were freedom's prison or the tomb of love;

As if, God help me! there were shame in truth

And no salvation left in realms above.

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