Her Dilemma
The two were silent in a sunless church,Whose mildewed walls, uneven paving-stones,And wasted carvings passed antique research;And nothing broke the clock’s dull monotones.
Leaning against a wormy poppy-head,So wan and worn that he could scarcely stand,—For he was soon to die,—he softly said,“Tell me you love me!”—holding hard her hand.
She would have given a world to breathe “yes” truly,So much his life seemed handing on her mind,And hence she lied, her heart persuaded throughly’Twas worth her soul to be a moment kind.
But the sad need thereof, his nearing death,So mocked humanity that she shamed to prizeA world conditioned thus, or care for breathWhere Nature such dilemmas could devise.
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