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Letitia Elizabeth Landon (Летиция Элизабет Лэндон)

A Name

They named him—ah! yet
    Do I start at that name;
Have I still to forget?
    Is my heart still the same
Long hours have passed on
    Since that name was too dear;
Now its music is gone,
    It is death to my ear!

It tells of a false one,
    Ah! falsest to me;
My heart's life begun,
    It has ended, with thee!
I loved, as those love
    Who but one image know
In the blue sky above,
    On the fair earth below.

I had not a thought
    In which thou had'st no part;
In the wide world I sought
    But a place in thy heart.
To win it I gave
    All that had been my pride;
Like a child or a slave
    Subdued at thy side.
All homage was sweet
    I for thee could resign;
Others knelt at my feet,
    But I knelt at thine.

I was happy, I dreamed
    I could trust to thy word;
My soul's faith it seemed
    In my idol—and lord!
And yet thou could'st change—
    And, did we meet now,
Thy voice would be strange,
    And altered thy brow.

I thought I had schooled
    My heart from regret—
It will not be ruled,
    'Tis so hard to forget.
I live in a crowd,
    And I seem like the rest,
But my spirit is bowed
    By a grief unconfess'd.

From my pillow at night—
    'Tis so wretched—sleep flies,
And morning brings light
    And the tears to my eyes;
They speak, and I ask what
    It is they would say,
For the thoughts that I name not
    Are with thee, far away.

Twas a light word and careless
    That named thee again:
There were none by to guess
    Why I shuddered like pain.
But the damp on my brow,
    The pang at my heart,
Revealed to me how
    Wildly loved still thou art.

Yet, false one, farewell!
    I have still enough pride;
Though hopeless to quell,
    Yet at least it can hide.
But, ah! may an hour
    Be waiting for thee—
When Love, in his power,
    Shall avenge him for me!

Letitia Elizabeth Landon's other poems:
  1. To Sir John Doyle, Bart
  2. Portrait
  3. Ideal Likenesses. Ariadne
  4. Age and Youth
  5. The Tournament

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