crime, is thus finely drawn:

Months passed: one evening, as of early days,
When first my bosom thrilled _his_ voice to hear,
And thought upon the gentle words of praise
Which forced my lips to smile, and chased my fear:
I sang--a sob, deep, single, struck my ear;
Wondering, I gazed on Arthur, bending low--
His features were concealed, but many a tea,
Quick gushing forth, continued fast to flow,
Stood where they fell, then sank like dew-drops on the snow.

Oh yes! however cold in after years,
At least it cost thee sorrow _then_ to leave me;
And for those few sincere, remorseful tears,
I do forgive (though thou couldst thus deceive me)
The years of peace of which thou didst bereave me.
Yes--as I saw those gushing life-drops come
Back to the heart which yet delayed to grieve me,
Thy love returned a moment to its home,
Far, far away from me for ever then to roam.

He deserts her:

Still hope was left me, and each tedious hour
Was counted as it brought his coming near;
And joyfully I watched each fading flower;
Each tree, whose shadowy boughs grew red and sear;
And hailed sad Autumn, favourite of the year.
At length my time of sorrow came--'twas over,