He was almost gone; but I held him tight,
And cried in my anguish, 'You have forgot--
When shall I follow you, darling? to-night?'
He shook his head, and he answer'd me not!
He threw off my hands in a savage way;
He cried, 'I adore you,' in fondest tone;
'You _shall_ follow me, sweet--I dare not stay--
I'll write to you, darling;' and he is gone!




PART III.


O the weary, dark, impossible days,
That have dragg'd their lingering length since then!
O the cruel sunshine's merciless blaze!
O the unnatural faces of men!

I was told it all--it was all explain'd;
And they all declar'd that I understood;
But only one knowledge on earth remain'd,
I knew that Harry was noble and good.

They had dined together--together play'd,
Together quarrell'd--who cares about what?
And somebody, speaking about them, said,
'They were out and out a thorough bad lot!'