I called her traitor in my heart-- Was she not mine by every right? Had I not held her to my breast, And whispered things one starlight night?
I strode away to where the waves Rushed on the beach with sullen roar, She cared not for me, why should I Think fondly of her any more?
Yet, when she softly called my name, My heart beat quick with love and wrath, And through the twilight soft and dim I saw her coming down the path.
Then love was dumb, and anger spake, The eyes of her grew proud and shy, I called her heartless, and coquette-- What but a jealous fool was I?
She turned to leave me, then I grew Ashamed of all my bitter speech, But she seemed now so far from me, I could not hope her grace to reach.
“Wait, Mariana, wait, and say Farewell to one you hold in scorn!” I cried, “and give to him I pray One of the flowers you have worn.”
O, Violet, she lifted you Up with her slender finger tips, Laid you for one brief moment’s space Against the redness of her lips.
Then gave you softly to my hand-- O, Violet, so sweet and shy! In all God’s universe there was No happier man, I wot, than I.
My Lady of the Silver Tongue, Do you not feel a thrill of shame? The woman is so fair and young-- Why seek to steal away her fame? Nay, never mind that haughty stare, For you and I must measure swords, To tell you to your face I dare, A lie lurked in your pretty words.
Did you not say awhile ago “_I am her friend_,”--in earnest tone-- And soft that voice of yours, and low-- “_I am her friend when all is done_;” As though a friend a doubt would fling, And evil tongues to wagging start! _I am her friend_--ah, there the sting, No friend will grieve and hurt a heart!
Your eyes are very warm and kind, And sweet the smile upon your lips, I read the truth--I am not blind-- False are you to your finger-tips, And I would rather be, to-day, The slandered woman, fair and young, Than be yourself, so proud and gay, My Lady of the Silver Tongue!
A friend’s heart holds no wronging doubt, No envy--meaner far than hate-- With tenderness it pieces out The small shortcomings, and the great. So when you slander--blush for shame-- Or, to some gossip’s tale attend, I pray you take some other name, And never say, _I am her friend_.