A SHATTERED IDOL.

O blame me not for the cruel words In a moment of madness said; The shadow that fell upon my life Is cold as the shrouded dead. Deem not I am hard and heartless; My tears are as warm as thine; 'Twas clay that I crowned and worshipped, And wept o'er its crumbled shrine.

To me, my passionate, deathless soul, Was less than his finger-tips; He turned away fro the gold of my love For the dross on a wanton's lips. My faith in his truth is broken— Even truth itself is a lie. I have cursed him!—but I love him, And I'll love him till I die.