766 a Poor Man and a Lady

A Poor Man and a Lady

We knew it was not a valid thing, And only sanct in the sight of God (To use your phrase), as with fervent nod You swore your assent when I placed the ring On your pale slim hand. Our whispering Was soft as the fan of a turtledove That round our heads might have seemed to wing; So solemn were we; so sincere our love.

We could do no better; and thus it stood Through a time of timorous secret bliss, Till we were divided, and never a kiss Of mine could touch you, or likelihood Illumed our sky that we might, or should Be each to each in the world’s wide eye What we were unviewed; and our vows make good In the presence of parents and standers by.

I was a striver with deeds to do, And little enough to do them with, And a comely woman of noble kith, With a courtly match to make, were you; And we both were young; and though sterling-true You had proved to our pledge under previous strains, Our ‘union’, as we called it, grew Less grave to your eyes in your town campaigns.

Well: the woeful neared, you needn’t be told: The current news-sheets clarioned soon That you would be wived on a summer noon By a man of illustrious line and old: Nor better nor worse than the manifold Of marriages made, had there not been Our faith-swearing when fervent-souled, Which, to me, seemed a breachless bar between.

We met in a Mayfair church, alone: (The request was mine, which you yielded to). ‘But we were not married at all!’ urged you: ‘Why, of course we were!’ I said. Your tone, I noted, was world-wise. You went on: ‘’Twas sweet while it lasted. But you well know That law is law. He’ll be, anon, My husband really. You, Dear, weren’t so.’

‘I wished – but to learn if – ’ faltered I, And stopped. ‘But I’ll sting you not. Farewell!’ And we parted. – Do you recall the bell That tolled by chance as we said good-bye? . . . I saw you no more. The track of a high, Sweet, liberal lady you’ve doubtless trod. – All’s past! No heart was burst thereby, And no one knew, unless it was God.

NOTE. – The foregoing was intended to preserve an episode in the story of ‘The Poor Man and the Lady’, written in 1868, and, like these lines, in the first person; but never printed, and ultimately destroyed.