Herbert Marshall addresses Louise, a woman who loved him and grew to hate him when he left her for Annabelle. He insists the choice was not cruelty or contempt. She saw him as her soul’s happiness, the one person formed to solve her life, and his refusal felt like a betrayal. But he turns the pain back on her: if she had been his happiness, wouldn’t he have clung to her? To him, she was misery, not joy. The final lines widen this private wound into a general truth—that love only works when two people want each other, yet our hearts often reach for stars that do not want us. The mood is defensive and weary, but also resigned: two people can wound each other simply by needing different things.
Herbert Marshall — Summary
All your sorrow, Louise, and hatred of me Sprang from your delusion that it was wantonness Of spirit and contempt of your soul’s rights Which made me turn to Annabelle and forsake you. You really grew to hate me for love of me, Because I was your soul’s happiness, Formed and tempered To solve your life for you, and would not. But you were my misery. If you had been My happiness would I not have clung to you? This is life’s sorrow: That one can be happy only where two are; And that our hearts are drawn to stars Which want us not.