Doubt By Sophie M.
Almon Hensley I do not know if all the fault be mine,
Or why I may not think of thee and be At peace with mine own heart.
Unceasingly grim doubts beset me,
Bygone words of thine take subtle meaning,
And I cannot rest till all my fears and follies Are confessed.
Perhaps the wild wind's questioning Has brought my heart its melancholy,
For alone in the night's stillness I can hear him moan in sobbing gusts As though he vainly sought some bygone bliss,
Against the dripping pain in storm-blown torrents Beats the driving rain.
Nay,
I will tell thee all,
I will not hide one thought from thee,
And if I do thee wrong,
So much the more Must I be brave and strong to show my fault,
And if thou then shouldest chide,
I will accept reproof most willingly,
Thou would but bringeth peace to thee and me.
I dread the past,
Phantoms of other days Pursue my vision,
There are other hands Which thou hast held,
Perchance some slender bands That draw thee still to the woodland ways,
Than those which we have known Some blissful hours I do not share Of love and June and flowers.
I dread her most,
That woman whom thou knewest,
Those years ago I cannot bear to think That she can say my lover praised The pink of palm or ear,
The violets were bluest in that deer copse And dream of some fairy day When thou didst while her summer hours away.
I dread them too,
Those light loves and desires That lie in the dim shadow of the years,
I fain would cheat myself of all my fears,
And as a child watching warm winter fires Dream not of yesterday's black embers Nor tomorrow's ashes that may strew the floor.
I did not dream of this while thou were near,
But now the thought that haunts me day by day Is that the things I love,
The tender way of mastery,
The kisses that are dear as heaven's best gifts To other lips and arms,
Oh,
Have their blessedness and all their charms.
Tell me that I am wrong,
O man of men,
Surely it is not hard to comfort me,
Profit my fears with dear persistency,
Nay,
If thou must lie to me,
There again I hear the rain and the wind's wailing cry,
Stirs with wild life the night's monotony.
