Poem by Arthur William Symons

The Price

Pity all faithless women who have loved. None knows
How much it hurts a woman to do wrong to love.
The mother who has felt the child within her move,
Shall she forget her child, and those ecstatic throes?

Then pity faithless women who have loved. These have
Murdered within them something born out of their pain.
These mothers of the child whom they have loved and slain
May not so much as lay the child within a grave.

1. Pastel: Masks and Faces
2. Grey Hours: Naples
3. At Glan-y-Wern
4. Behind the Scenes: Empire
5. The Andante of Snakes

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