After she became a mother, Leaving me her child, Fled she from me with another— With a man I thought my brother. Fate its mountain on me piled, And my mind grew rapt and wild. So it was, he treated vilely One who trusted him; Thus did she with action wily Lull me, ere she left me slyly— Left me for her passion’s whim, With my life-lamp growing dim. Sad I sat me by my lattice, Where the faded flowers, Withered poppies, seared clematis, And the damp-mould which begat is By the long-neglected hours, Seemed in harmony with my powers. Thus my life-lamp’s fitful shimmer Faint and fainter shone; Thus its fastly-fading glimmer, Daily growing dim and dimmer, As I brooded there alone, Lit my happiness o’erthrown. Day by day thus wrapt in sadness, Sat I quiet there; Desperately rejecting gladness, Wooing the approach of madness, Nursing wrongs with savage care, Whose nurture would create despair. Time at length it soothed me slightly, Covering o’er my care; Made me bear my woes more lightly, Think my honor less unsightly; But her absence made her fair, Though criminal beyond compare. Years had past, and in this Babel Of continual din, I had striven, as I was able, Till the silver streaked the sable Of my hair, which growing thin Showed decay which must begin. Years had past, but naught could fetter Love I should have spurned; Every day I loved her better— Shame upon me! Then I met her, In the wo that she had learned, Under the blow which she had earned. By her death-hour’s turbid river Stood her trembling soul; And she asked me to forgive her, By her shame, which would outlive her, By her anguish past control, By the hell which was her goal. Could I at such time refuse her Such a sad request? Could I then of crime accuse her— At that moment harshly use her? So I bade her pass to rest, With forgiveness on her breast. Smiled the Magdalen, and prayed me With a feeble pride, Prayed me by the God who made me, That when in the earth they laid me It should be her form beside— Hers, my false and fallen bride. As I stood in pity by her, Looking in her face, Could I this small boon deny her? Pride revolted, but a higher, Holier feeling took its place, And I smiled the sought-for grace. This thing won, another favor From me she did pray; That, forgetting her behavior, Ere death’s rising waves would lave her, I would bend and on that day Kiss her chill lips as she lay.