The Poetry Corner

To G. A. G.

By Charles Kingsley

A hasty jest I once let fall - As jests are wont to be, untrue - As if the sum of joy to you Were hunt and picnic, rout and ball. Your eyes met mine:I did not blame; You saw it:but I touched too near Some noble nerve; a silent tear Spoke soft reproach, and lofty shame. I do not wish those words unsaid. Unspoilt by praise and pleasure, you In that one look to woman grew, While with a child, I thought, I played. Next to mine own beloved so long! I have not spent my heart in vain. I watched the blade; I see the grain; A woman's soul, most soft, yet strong. Eversley, 1856.