HER DILEMMA
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HE 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. 1866. [Picture: Sketch of two people in a church]
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