Chapter XX

When singing first my smitten heart's lament,
My thought was only turned upon my pain,
And I was also querulous with Cain,
Crying: "This thing that thou on me hast sent
Is more than I can bear!" But now content,
Peace, and a quiet joy close the refrain
Of passionate protesting with a strain
Of dulcimers and silver trumpets blent:

For though my shame be branded on my brow,
And you in tears have driven me afar
Because I faltered and forgot my vow,
The night has still for me a single star
That will not let me quite forget your eyes--
You, and the dear dream-hours of Paradise!