Of course the servants sneer
Behind my back at me;
Of course the village girls,
Who envy me my curls
And gowns and idleness, 480
Take comfort in a jeer;
Of course the ladies guess
Just so much of my history
As points the emphatic stress
With which they laud my Lady;
The gentlemen who catch
A casual glimpse of me
And turn again to see,
Their valets on the watch
To speak a word with me, 490
All know and sting me wild;
Till I am almost ready
To wish that I were dead,
No faces more to see,
No more words to be said,
My Mother safe at last
Disburdened of her child,
And the past past.

’All equal before God’—­
Our Rector has it so, 500
And sundry sleepers nod: 
It may be so; I know
All are not equal here,
And when the sleepers wake
They make a difference. 
’All equal in the grave’—­
That shows an obvious sense: 
Yet something which I crave
Not death itself brings near;
Now should death half atone 510
For all my past; or make
The name I bear my own?

I love my dear old Nurse
Who loved me without gains;
I love my mistress even,
Friend, Mother, what you will: 
But I could almost curse
My Father for his pains;
And sometimes at my prayer
Kneeling in sight of Heaven 520
I almost curse him still: 
Why did he set his snare
To catch at unaware
My Mother’s foolish youth;
Load me with shame that’s hers,
And her with something worse,
A lifelong lie for truth?

I think my mind is fixed
On one point and made up: 
To accept my lot unmixed; 530
Never to drug the cup
But drink it by myself. 
I’ll not be wooed for pelf;
I’ll not blot out my shame
With any man’s good name;
But nameless as I stand,
My hand is my own hand,
And nameless as I came
I go to the dark land.

’All equal in the grave’—­ 540
I bide my time till then: 
’All equal before God’—­
To-day I feel His rod,
To-morrow He may save: 
          Amen.

DEVOTIONAL PIECES

DESPISED AND REJECTED

My sun has set, I dwell
In darkness as a dead man out of sight;
And none remains, not one, that I should tell
To him mine evil plight
This bitter night. 
I will make fast my door
That hollow friends may trouble me no more.

’Friend, open to Me.’—­Who is this that calls? 
Nay, I am deaf as are my walls: 
Cease crying, for I will not hear 10
Thy cry of hope or fear. 
Others were dear,
Others forsook me:  what art thou indeed
That I should heed
Thy lamentable need? 
Hungry should feed,
Or stranger lodge thee here?