Well—as I said—my love, my bride, my wife

Well—as I said—my love, my bride, my wife,
Is here, and gazes on me piteously.
It seems that reason and passion are at strife
As she comes in with strange humility.
‘O love and lord!’ she cries, ‘O love and life!
O author of my maiden agony!
Am I forgotten utterly? Am I
Left in the cold dark chancel vault to die?’
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