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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.