The poem
THE two were silent in a sunless church, Whose mildewed walls, uneven paving-stones, And wasted carvings passed antique research; And nothing broke the clock's dull monotones.
Leaning against a wormy poppy-head, So wan and worn that he could scarcely stand, --For he was soon to die,--he softly said, "Tell me you love me!"--holding hard her hand.
She would have given a world to breathe "yes" truly, So much his life seemed hanging on her mind, And hence she lied, her heart persuaded throughly, 'Twas worth her soul to be a moment kind.
But the sad need thereof, his nearing death, So mocked humanity that she shamed to prize A world conditioned thus, or care for breath Where Nature such dilemmas could devise.
I find that this hurts to know it is so true. Is it worth your soul to lye to some one you care about? I don't know. But to read a poem that is written from a girls point of veiw, but written by a man is quiet interesting. This poem hurt to read for the pain is right in front of you.