Chapter XI

A year! How slight a space
When winged with ecstasy!
(An aeon dark to me.)
He has brought her home--God lend me grace!
To-night in the throng I shall see his face--
He has long forgotten me.
A year! I have learned to smile,
I have taught my eyes to lie,
I have lived and laughed and sung--the while
I have only longed to die.