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The Spike or Victoria College Review, June 1907


page 71


So all is over, then,
This love of a month and a day;
Ended as April leaves
Began to fall, in May.

Matters the wrong or the right?
No more our arms entwine!
For you—warm Love and kisses wait,
For me—the Vestal Shrine.

I could half forget I live
Were it not for the sound of the sea—
The swish of the rain on the roof—
For the wind, and rain, and the sea.

All speak of a tale of war
Of the strife of Love and Delight
Warring with things that are,
And I have gone down in the fight.

Through all the jarring years
While I sought for you—my mate,
Did I turn away from all
To fine you at last—too late.

Yes, just for a month and a day,
While the glamour lasted—so—
Our spirits rushed together
As we kissed—then I Let you go.

What harm did you get from me
I loved you—love you still
With a love that is not of he senses born
Robbed of their passionate thrill—

Robbed of the joy and the thrill,
Purged of the passionate pain,
Love it is still, though sense rebels,
Love let it still remain.

Do I yearn to hold you yet?
Does the Earth desire the Rain?
Ah! for the right to feel your lips
On my lips and brow again!

page 72

I have a task to do!
I am beaten to earth—but shall I
Falter when love is pointing the way?
No! let selfishness die!

Then go to the other and take
Her kisses in place of mine
For you—warm Love is waiting,
For me—the Vestal Shrine.

Emma Ward.