To A Libertine
Poem By Louisa Lawson
There's blood in the ink of her writing,
The paper is stiffened with tears,
And I with my conscience am fighting
And striving to quiet it, tears.
And these are the words she is saying:
' My life I no longer can bear.
For death I am constantly praying,
And God will soon answer my prayer.'
I met her when first the faint dawning
Of womanhood tinted her you'h,
She then had no past, like the morning,
For she was all candour and truth.
She made little timid confession
And asked me for leading and light
To right, where was no retrogression,
To cleanse what was spotless and white.
She hehl me in deep vénération.
She looked on me almost as God,
And gave her sweet life's conservation
Ol love to the vilest that trod.
I taught her that love was the duty
And life of the angels ol light,
Then spoiled her sweet spiritual beauty
And dragged it down into the night.
I wooed lier in delicate fashion,
Then sullied her soul with my lust,
I poisoned her lile with my passion
And murdered her beautiful trust.
And cow her sweet spirit is flitting
To where other sweet spirits wait,
While I with soul lepers am sitting
Just inside ol hell's awful gate.