Day after day--no answer--back again
I turned my footsteps with a weary sigh.
It wore upon me and I could not rest;
It gnawed me to the marrow of my bones.
The heavy tomes grew dull and wearisome,
And sometimes hateful;--then I broke away
As from a prison and rushed wildly out
Among the elms along the river-bank--
Baring my burning temples to the breeze--
And drank the air of heaven like sparkling wine--
Conjuring excuses for her;--was she ill?
Perhaps forbidden. Had another heart
Come in between us?--No, that could not be;
She was all constancy and promise-bound.
A month, which seemed to me a laggard year,
Thus wore away. At last a letter came.
O with what springing step I hurried back--
Back to my private chamber and my desk!
With what delight--what eager, trembling hand--
The well-known seal that held my hopes I broke!
Thus ran the letter:
"'Paul, the time has come
When we must both forgive while we forget.
Mine was a girlish fancy. We outgrow
Such childish follies in our later years.
Now I have pondered well and made an end.
I cannot wed myself to want, and curse
My life life-long, because a girlish freak
Of folly made a promise.
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