Dora Sigerson Shorter

“ The bond of love that held two hates united,
They plead still unrequited,
They grow and bear the thorn —
Oh, better never born!
Better if thou wert dead, my dear, if thou wert dead;
No woman’s moan but mine should hush thy sleeping. ”

“ Draw forth a curling braid of woman’s hair,
Lay it across his lips with swift caressing.
His love confessing: ‘My sweet beyond compare,
Whose fault we love to-day and hate to-morrow?’
Her voice: he hides his sorrow,
And meets her bitterly ”