Unsolved

Maimed from my birth, and nowise fair to see.
The soul aflame in me was keen and strong
To shape my sorrows into burning song;
Such was I when she first discovered me.
O face, O voice, O one sweet memory!
Her touch I thought a trifle kind and long
For mere indiff"erence; but I did her wrong
To think upon a thing that could not be.

I said, " 'Tis only pity makes her kind,
I will not vex her by a useless pain;"
And turned me from the sunlight of her face: —
Now I am old, not only maimed, but blind;
I cannot guess if love did wax or wane.
And God alone her spirit's veil shall raise.