Poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton / [by Louise Chandler Moulton] [electronic text]

I walked alone to the shaded well When locusts bloomed in the next year's June,— The shadows along my pathway fell, The wild birds sang a sorrowful tune. She had given her shining hair's young gold, Her holy brow and her eyes of blue, The form I had scarcely dared to fold, To a wealthy suitor who came to woo: Had sold, for jewels and land and name, Youth and beauty and love and grace,— Alone I cursed the sin and shame, And started to see my own dark face Mirrored there in the well below, With its haggard cheek and its lines of care, Where I once had seen a girlish brow And shy blue eyes and golden hair.

Years have passed since that summer day Went over the hills with its silent tread: I walk alone where its glory lay,— I am lonely, and Lulu is dead.

Dust is thick on her shining hair, A shroud is folded across her breast, The winds blow over the locusts where She lies at last, alone and at rest. Youth and beauty, and love and grace, Wealth and station, joy and pain,— If she dream at all in that lonely place, She will know, at length, that her life was vain.

I do not think of her heart's disgrace, Looking into the waters there; For I seem to see once more a face With shy blue eyes and golden hair. Out among then she walks by my side— For me she lives whom the world calls dead,— I talk at night to my shadow bride, And pillow in dreams her golden head. They broke her heart,—so the gossips tell,— Who sold her hand for wealth and a name; But I see her face in the cool, deep well, And its innocent beauty is still the same.