A PILGRIMAGE THROUGH ‘IN MEMORIAM’ 61

He past; a soul of nobler tone:
My spirit loved and loves him yet,
Like some poor girl whose heart is set
On one whose rank exceeds her own.


He mixing with his proper sphere,
She finds the baseness of her lot,
Half jealous of she knows not what,
And envying all that meet him there.


The little village looks forlorn;
She sighs amid her narrow days,
Moving about the household ways,
In that dark house where she was born.


The foolish neighbors come and go,
And tease her till the day draws by:
At night she weeps, `How vain am I!’
How should he love a thing so low?’

To compare his own love of the heaven-dwelling Hallam to that of a village girl for a man of higher caste, is to demean both.

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: