Should ever the day come when this drear world <br />Shall read the secret which so close I hold, <br />Should taunts and jeers at my bowed head be hurled, <br />And all my love and all my shame be told, <br />I could not, as some doughtier women do, <br />Fling jests and gold and live the scandal down, <br />Nor, knowing all fame's bruitings to be true, <br />Keep a proud face and brave the talk of town. <br />I have no courage for such tricks and ways, <br />No wish to flaunt a once well--honoured name. <br />I have too dear a thought of earlier days, <br />Too deep a dread of my deserved shame. <br />So, when it comes, with one last suppliant cry <br />For pardon from my wronged ones, I must die.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-woman-s-sonnets-iv/
