The Blow Returned

I STRUCK you once, I do remember well. Hard on the track of passion sorrow sped, And swift repentance, weeping for the blow ; I struck you once — and now you're lying dead !

Now you are gone the blow no longer sleeps In your forgiveness hushed through all the years ; But like a phantom haunts me through the dark, To cry, " You gave your own beloved tears."

Stript now of all excuses, stern and stark. With all your small transgressings dimmed or fled, The ghost returns the blow upon my heart. I struck you once — and now you're lying dead.