Matron was she of a great Roman house, <br />And wed in youth to one she might not love; <br />Her birth, her fortune, her name luminous, <br />Such as all noblest virtues most behove. <br />How dare she trifle with ignoble things, <br />Or yield her fair fame to a stranger's care, <br />Or let her passionate desire take wings, <br />Or be of those unchastely debonnaire? <br />Yet with him she was well, and far from him <br />A bird shaft--stricken which no more may fly. <br />She deemed his smile as of the seraphim, <br />And in his frown she was one like to die. <br />For his dear sake 'twixt niggard hopes and fears <br />She lived in death for two long weary years.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/natalia-s-resurrection-sonnet-iii/
