All day I argued with my foolish heart
That bade me play the shrinking coward's part
And hide from pain. And when the day had past
And time for Vivian's call drew near and nearer,
It pleaded, "Wait until the way seems clearer;
Say you are ill--or busy; keep away
Until you gather strength enough to play
The part you have resolved on."

"Nay, not so,"
Made answer clear-eyed Reason; "do you go
And put your resolution to the test.
Resolve, however nobly formed, at best
Is but a still-born babe of Thought until
It proves existence of its life and will
By sound or action."
So when Helen came
And knelt by me, her fair face all aflame
With sudden blushes, whispering, "My sweet!
My heart can hear the music of his feet,
Go down with me to meet him," I arose,
And went with her all calmly, as one goes
To look upon the dear face of the dead.

That eve I know not what I did or said.
I was not cold--my manner was not strange;
Perchance I talked more freely than my wont,
But in my speech was naught could give affront;
Yet I conveyed, as only woman can,
That nameless SOMETHING which bespeaks a chance.