I did not chide him, though I knew <br />That he was false to me. <br />Chide the exhaling of the dew, <br />The ebbing of the sea, <br />The fading of a rosy hue,— <br />But not inconstancy. <br /> <br />Why strive for love when love is o'er? <br />Why bind a restive heart?— <br />He never knew the pain I bore <br />In saying: 'We must part; <br />Let us be friends and nothing more.' <br />—Oh, woman's shallow art! <br /> <br />But it is over, it is done,— <br />I hardly heed it now; <br />So many weary years have run <br />Since then, I think not how <br />Things might have been,—but greet each one <br />With an unruffled brow. <br /> <br />What time I am where others be, <br />My heart seems very calm— <br />Stone calm; but if all go from me, <br />There comes a vague alarm, <br />A shrinking in the memory <br />From some forgotten harm. <br /> <br />And often through the long, long night, <br />Waking when none are near, <br />I feel my heart beat fast with fright, <br />Yet know not what I fear. <br />Oh how I long to see the light, <br />And the sweet birds to hear! <br /> <br />To have the sun upon my face, <br />To look up through the trees, <br />To walk forth in the open space <br />And listen to the breeze,— <br />And not to dream the burial-place <br />Is clogging my weak knees. <br /> <br />Sometimes I can nor weep nor pray, <br />But am half stupefied: <br />And then all those who see me say <br />Mine eyes are opened wide <br />And that my wits seem gone away— <br />Ah, would that I had died! <br /> <br />Would I could die and be at peace, <br />Or living could forget! <br />My grief nor grows nor doth decrease, <br />But ever is:—and yet <br />Methinks, now, that all this shall cease <br />Before the sun shall set.<br /><br />Christina Georgina Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/heart-s-chill-between/
