Sonnet Ccxcviii: Poem by George Henry Boker

Tonight I saw my darling, bathed in light,
Sit as she slowly combed her splendid hair
Into one tress, through which the piercing glare
Shot dusky gold against surrounding night.
Her upturned brow was pearl-like, and that pair
Of glorious eyes, which rule me as by right,
Half closed beneath their lids, shone faintly bright,
Like dawn's first streak along the eastern air.
Her cheek was pale, I fancied;--ah! but why?
Had act of mine thus turned the rose to grey,
Blanched the fair brow, and closed the weary eye?
Oh! God, I knew not; but upon me lay
At once, like Cain's, His curse; and with a cry,
Bitter as guilt's, I fled in tears away.