O my poor Lilia! my bewildered child!
How shall I win thee, save thee, make thee mine?
Where art thou wandering? What words in thine ears?
God, can she never more be clean? no more,
Through all the terrible years? Hast thou no well
In all thy heaven, in all thyself, that can
Wash her soul clean? Her body will go down
Into the friendly earth—would it were lying
There in my arms! for there thy rains will come,
Fresh from the sky, slow sinking through the sod,
Summer and winter; and we two should lie
Mouldering away together, gently washed
Into the heart of earth; and part would float
Forth on the sunny breezes that bear clouds
Through the thin air. But her stained soul, my God!
Canst thou not cleanse it? Then should we, when death
Was gone, creep into heaven at last, and sit
In some still place together, glory-shadowed.
None would ask questions there. And I should be
Content to sorrow a little, so I might
But see her with the darling on her knees,
And know that must be pure that dwelt within
The circle of thy glory. Lilia! Lilia!
I scorn the shame rushing from head to foot;
I would endure it endlessly, to save
One thought of thine from his polluting touch;
Saying ever to myself: this is a part
Of my own Lilia; and the world to me
Is nothing since I lost the smiles of her:
Somehow, I know not how, she faded from me,
And this is all that's left of her. My wife!
Soul of my soul! my oneness with myself!
Come back to me; I will be all to thee:
Back to my heart; and we will weep together,
And pray to God together every hour,
That he would show how strong he is to save.
The one that made is able to renew—
I know not how.—I'll hold thy heart to mine,
So close that the defilement needs must go.
My love shall ray thee round, and, strong as fire,
Dart through and through thy soul, till it be cleansed.—
But if she love him? Oh my heart—beat! beat!
Grow not so sick with misery and life,
For fainting will not save thee.—Oh no! no!
She cannot love him as she must love me.
Then if she love him not—oh horrible!—oh God!
[He stands in a stupor for some minutes.]
What devil whispered that vile word, unclean?
I care not—loving more than that can touch.
Let me be shamed, ay, perish in my shame,
As men call perishing, so she be saved.
Saved! my beloved! my Lilia!—Alas,
Would she were here! oh, I would make her weep,
Till her soul wept itself to purity!
Far, far away! where my love cannot reach.
No, no; she is not gone!
[Starting and facing wildly through the room.]
It is a lie—
Deluding blind revenge, not keen-eyed love.
I must do something.—
[Enter LILY.]
Ah! there's the precious thing
That shall entice her back.
[Kneeling and clasping the child to his heart.]
My little Lily,
I have lost your mother.
Lily.
Oh!
[Beginning to weep.]
She was so pretty,
Somebody has stolen her.
Julian.
Will you go with me,
And help me look for her?
Lily.
O yes, I will.
[Clasping him round the neck.]
But my head aches so! Will you carry me?
Julian.
Yes, my own darling. Come, we'll get your bonnet.
Lily.
Oh! you've been crying, father. You're so white!