YES, you have guessed it. Do not blame me, dear. <br />Indeed, I did not dream, 0 tender eyes, <br />When first we met, that in a little year <br />My words would dim you with pain's dumb surprise. <br /> <br />Do not reproach me, for I suffer too <br />An agony of shame and self-contempt; <br />And know that I shall miss, far more than you, <br />The lost illusions of this dream we've dreamt. <br /> <br />Why did you ever learn to love me, child? <br />If you had let me only be your friend <br />Instead of weeping, had you only smiled <br />Coldly, I might have worshipped to the end. <br /> <br />Worthless and aimless, what I was you knew, <br />By all the wretched past to you confessed; <br />The one good in me was my love of you, <br />And that has proved as fickle as the rest. <br /> <br />Ah ! dear, the worst wrong in this world of shame, <br />The hardest question to explain, is why <br />Women like you, who barely know sin's name, <br />Can be so wounded by such men as I.<br /><br />Alice Duer Miller<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-a-year-2/
