Unforgiven.

Ah! that “Past”—that bitter parting, Long ago, yet vivid seems— Oft in midnight’s black arms folded I have lived it o’er in dreams; As a presence it has shadowed Every path of life I’ve tried— If I joined the festive circle It was stalking by my side. If I sat at hush of even With a sense of love and trust, It would come and stand before me, Hissing out the word—unjust; It has stretched its ghostly fingers For all blessings to destroy, And has poured its gall and wormwood In each lifted cup of joy. Had you winged a sweet forgiveness, Sent it o’er the “silent line,” It had proved a benediction Falling on your life and mine. Through the years that phantom presence, Like a black bird o’er my door, Seemed to say, by silent glowering, “I will leave thee nevermore.” You can drive this haunting demon, Send in place a snowy dove— Only breathe the longed for blessing, Not youth’s fervent tale of love, And on friendship’s sacred altar Light a pure and holy flame, That may burn before the angels Without blanch or blush of shame.