The Complete Poetical Works. Томас Харди

we lay, she and I, in the night-time,

       We heard the boy moaning:

       “O misery mine! My false father

       Has murdered my true!”

      She gasped: yea, she heard; understood it.

       Next day the child fled us;

       And nevermore sighted was even

       A print of his shoe.

      Thenceforward she shunned me, and languished;

       Till one day the park-pool

       Embraced her fair form, and extinguished

       Her eyes’ living blue.

      —So; ask not what blast may account for

       This aspect of pallor,

       These bones that just prison within them

       Life’s poor residue;

      But pass by, and leave unregarded

       A Cain to his suffering,

       For vengeance too dark on the woman

       Whose lover he slew.