WE WERE two lovers; let me lie by her, My tomb beside her tomb. On hers inscribe— “I loved him; but my reason bade prefer Duty to love, reject the tempter’s bribe Of rose and lily when each path diverged, And either I must pace to life’s far end As love should lead me, or, as duty urged, Plod the worn causeway arm-in-arm with friend. So, truth turned falsehood: ‘How I loathe a flower, How prize the pavement!’ still caressed his ear— The deafish friend’s—through life’s day, hour by hour, As he laughed (coughing). ‘Ay, it would appear!’ But deep within my heart of hearts there hid Ever the confidence, amends for all, That heaven repairs what wrong earth’s journey did, When love from life-long exile comes at call. Duty and love, one broad way, were the best— Who doubts? But one or other was to choose, I chose the darkling half, and wait the rest In that new world where light and darkness fuse.”
Inscribe on mine—“I loved her: love’s track lay
Inscribe each tomb thus: then, some sage acquaint |