Francis Thompson - Beginning Of End

She was aweary of the hovering Of Love's incessant tumultuous wing; Her lover's tokens she would answer not-- 'Twere well she should be strange with him somewhat: A pretty babe , this Love , --but fie on it , That would not suffer her lay it down a whit ! Appointed tryst defiantly she balked , And with her lightest comrade lightly walked , Who scared the chidden Love to hide apart , And peep from some unnoticed corner of her heart. She thought not of her lover , deem it not (There yonder , in the hollow , that's HIS cot) , But she forgot not that he was forgot. She saw him at his gate , yet stilled her tongue-- So weak she felt her , that she would feel strong , And she must punish him for doing him wrong: Passed , unoblivious of oblivion still; And if she turned upon the brow o' the hill , It was so openly , so lightly done , You saw she thought he was not thought upon. He through the gate went back in bitterness; She that night woke and stirred , with no distress , Glad of her doing , --sedulous to be glad , Lest perhaps her foolish heart suspect that it was sad.Francis Thompson