I know she loved me—yes of this I’m sure

And still in vile sin she did betray;

Yet of this trespass what is but the cure?

“You are forgiven”—this, perchance I’ll say;

Condemn my heart to bear the lasting scorn,

To dwell in silence through the aching years

Where sorrow’s night leaves both our spirits torn,

And sweetest dreams dissolve in bitter tears.

There is no future, no redeeming past:

This stands the time we met and dared to trust—

Yet in that time love drew its final gasp,

And all sweet ardor burned to ash and dust.

That was the hour for murder and for hate—

Now is the time to heal and vindicate.