Deserted

Original Text: 
Augusta Webster, A Woman Sold and Other Poems (London and Cambridge: Macmillan, 1867): 129-31. British Library 11647.dd.35
1   No, mother, I am not sad:
2Why think me sad? I was always still,
3You remember, even when my heart was most glad
4And you used to let me dream at my will;
5And now I like better to watch the sea
6And the calm sad sky than to laugh with the rest.
7You know they are full of chatter and glee,
8   And I like the quietness best.
9   Nay, mother, you look so grave.
10I know what you're thinking and will not say;
11But you need not fear; I am growing brave
12Now that the pain is passing away,
13And I never weep for him now when alone,
14For perhaps it was better--who can tell?--
15That it ended so. I shall soon be well
16   Now that the hardest is known.
17   I am so much stronger to-day
18I can look at all past and think how it grew
19And how by degrees it faded away,
20That light of my life. Ah! when I first knew
21I had only been a plaything to him
22Through all my loving, it seemed so strange.
23If the high noontide at once grew night-dim
24   It would not be such a change.
25   I wonder I did not die.
26Mother, I'll own it you now I am strong,
27I used to wake in the night and lie
28Wishing and wishing it might not be long--
29Oh! it was wicked, and you all so kind,
30How could I wish to bring you a grief?
31But too much unhappiness makes one blind
32   To all but one's own relief.
33   I am not so wicked now;
34You need not fear. I am hoping that still,
35I am learning to lean on God, and I bow,
36Yes I think I bow my heart to His will.
37I found it a long hard struggle to make,
38To clasp my sorrow and say "It is best,"
39But, believe it, you need not fear for my sake;
40   Yes, mother, I am at rest:
41   Yet, listen, if I should die soon--
42And I know what they say, though you hide it from me--
43Mother, you'll grant me my last-asked boon,
44That you'll try not to think it his fault, and if he,
45Mother, if he should seek you some day,
46You will not make him a hard reply,
47But tell him, before I passed away,
48   I sent him kind good-bye.
49   Mother, kiss me, do not cry.
50I could not keep from speaking of this;
51It is nothing to say "If I should die,"
52It cannot bring death more near than it is;
53And I am much stronger. You shall not weep--
54Who is it tells me that weeping is wrong?
55But let me lean on your lap and sleep,
56   I lay waking last night too long.
Publication Start Year: 
1867
RPO poem Editors: 
Ian Lancashire
RPO Edition: 
RPO 2001
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