How can I be in fault? I am sure where hearts are so few, It is difficult to discern The diamonds of paste from the true; I thought him like all the rest, Skilful in playing his part; As careful at cards or at chess, As winning a woman's heart. I am sure it is nothing wrong, Nothing to think of--and yet I know I lured him with glance and song, Into my shining net; Provokingly cold at first he seemed, Like crystal to smiles and sighs, But at last he felt the magic that gleamed In my dreamy violet eyes. And I led him on and on, Farther, in truth, than I strove, For he frightened me with the earnestness And violence of his love; These calm-eyed men deceive-- Had I known the man had a heart, I would have paused, I would, I believe, Have acted a different part. In his royal indignation He uttered some wholesome truth-- He almost roused the emotion That died in my innocent youth; Emotion that lived when life was new, Ere that man my pathway crossed, Who played me a game untrue, When I staked all my love, and lost. Oh for a saintly beauty, What efforts my soul did make; I thought all goodness and purity Were possible for his sake; The world seemed born anew, my life Such holy meaning wore, I fancy so fair and fond a dream Never fell into ruins before. He toyed with my fresh affection As he breathed the country air, To refresh him after a season Of fashion, and falsehood, and glare; Had he not slain my tenderness, Had my life been more sweet, I might have known nobler happiness Than to humble men to my feet. But now I love to lure them on, To make them slaves to my gaze, Like serfs to a conqueror's chariot, Like moths to a candle-blaze. I melt most royally time, the pearl, And quaff the cup like a queen, And forget in the dizzy tumult and whirl, The woman I might have been. LITTLE NELL. Clasp your arms round her neck to-night, Little Nell, Arms so delicate, soft and white, And yet so strong in love's strange might; Clasp them around the kneeling form, Fold them tenderly close and warm, And who can tell But such slight links may draw her back, Away from the fatal, fatal track; Who can tell, Little Nell? Press your lips to the lips of snow, Little Nell; Oh baby heart, may you never know The anguish that makes them quiver so; But now in her weakness and mortal pain, Let your kisses fall like a dewy rain, And who can tell But your innocent love, your childish kiss May lure her back from the dread abyss; Who can tell, Little Nell. Lay your cheek on her aching breast, Little Nell; To you 'tis a refuge of holy rest, But a dying bird never drooped its crest With a deadlier pain in its wounded heart; Ah! love's sweet links may be torn apart, Little Nell; The altar may flame with gems and gold, And splendor be bought, and peace be sold, But is it well, Little Nell?