She, To Him, III.

I will be faithful to thee; aye, I will! 
  And Death shall choose me with a wondering eye 
That he did not discern and domicile 
  One his by right ever since that last Good-bye! 
I have no care for friends, or kin, or prime
  Of manhood who deal gently with me here; 
Amid the happy people of my time 
  Who work their love’s fulfilment, I appear 
Numb as a vane that cankers on its point, 
  True to the wind that kissed ere canker came;
Despised by souls of Now, who would disjoint 
  The mind from memory, and make Life all aim, 
My old dexterities of hue quite gone, 
And nothing left for Love to look upon.

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