<h2><SPAN name="page52"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>A WOMAN’S LOVE</h2>
<p class="poetry">So vast the tide of love within me surging,<br/>
It overflows like some stupendous sea,<br/>
The confines of the Present and To-be;<br/>
And ’gainst the Past’s high wall I feel it urging,<br/>
As it would cry, “Thou, too, shalt yield to
me!”</p>
<p class="poetry">All other loves my supreme love embodies;<br/>
I would be she on whose soft bosom nursed<br/>
Thy clinging infant lips to quench their thirst;<br/>
She who trod close to hidden worlds where God is,<br/>
That she might have, and hold, and see thee
first.</p>
<p class="poetry">I would be she who stirred the vague, fond
fancies<br/>
Of thy still childish heart; who through bright
days<br/>
Went sporting with thee in the old-time plays,<br/>
And caught the sunlight of thy boyish glances<br/>
In half-forgotten and long-buried Mays.</p>
<p class="poetry"><SPAN name="page53"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
53</span>Forth to the end, and back to the beginning,<br/>
My love would send its inundating tide,<br/>
Wherein all landmarks of thy past should hide.<br/>
If thy life’s lesson <i>must</i> be learned through
sinning,<br/>
My grieving virtue would become thy guide.</p>
<p class="poetry">For I would share the burden of thy errors,<br/>
So when the sun of our brief life had set,<br/>
If thou didst walk in darkness and regret,<br/>
E’en in that shadowy world of nameless terrors,<br/>
My soul and thine should be companions yet.</p>
<p class="poetry">And I would cross with thee those troubled
oceans<br/>
Of dark remorse whose waters are despair:<br/>
All things my jealous, reckless love would dare,<br/>
So that thou mightst not recollect emotions<br/>
In which it did not have a part and share.</p>
<p class="poetry">There is no limit to my love’s full
measure,<br/>
It’s spirit-gold is shaped by earth’s
alloy;<br/>
I would be friend and mother, mate and toy,<br/>
I’d have thee look to me for every pleasure,<br/>
And in me find all memories of joy.</p>
<p class="poetry">Yet though I love thee in such selfish
fashion,<br/>
I would wait on thee, sitting at thy feet,<br/>
And serving thee, if thou didst deem it meet.<br/>
And couldst thou give me one fond hour of passion,<br/>
I’d take that hour and call my life
complete.</p>
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