Lota - Part II

A poem on Unrequited Love, by Augusta Webster

Page 21

He said "My foolish love,
I know you have some vexing tale to tell,
Which for your comfort you shall tell: but first
Promise me this much trust - if I shall say,
When I have heard it, that I hold you free,
By justice and by truth to yes or no
At your own will, you'll say my asked for yes."

She looked at him as though she heard him speak
Some unfamiliar tongue reaching her ears
Without a meaning. Then she hid her face
In her trembling hands, "You do not know it then?
They did not tell you! Gervase do you not know?"
He said, "Nay, I know nothing ... only this
That I trust you, knowing nothing, and I love."

Then she uplifted to him a warmed face,
And told him slowly out of trembling lips,
"I have been married; and he was not dead."
And he was still as if she had struck a blow
That dazed him into stupor, and they sat
In a numb helpless silence, face to face,
And did not see each other.

Then at last
He rose and paced the small room to and fro
Like the impotent chafed lion in his cage,
Resting himself with fretful restlessness.

Till suddenly he stopped, "Tell me," he said,
And said it patiently, so that she thought,
"How great he is, he has forgiven me."
And longed the more to tell him her whole heart.


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