Page:Andromeda, and other poems - Kingsley (1858).djvu/120

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SAINT MAURA.
Yet, as I failed before! . . I could not speak—I could not speak for shame and misery,And terror of my sin, and of the thingsI knew were coming: but in heaven, in heaven!There we should meet, perhaps—and by that timeI might be worthy of you once again—Of you, and of my God. . . So I went out.*****Will you hear more, and so forget the pain?And yet I dread to tell you what comes next;Your love will feel it all again for me.No! it is over; and the woe that's deadRises next hour a glorious angel. Love!Say, shall I tell you? Ah! your lips are dry!To-morrow, when they come, we must entreat,And they will give you water. One to-day,A soldier, gave me water in a spongeUpon a reed, and said, 'Too fair! too young!She might have been a gallant soldier's wife!'And then I cried, 'I am a soldier's wife!
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