Explore "Herbert Marshall" by Edgar Lee Masters on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
All your sorrow, Louise, and hatred of me / Sprang from your delusion that it was wantonness / Of spirit and contempt of your soul's rights / Which made me turn to Annabelle and forsake you.
You really grew to hate me for love of me, / Because I was your soul's happiness, / Formed and tempered / To solve your life for you, and would not.
But you were my misery. If you had been / My happiness would I not have clung to you?
This is life's sorrow:
That one can be happy only where two are;
And that our hearts are drawn to stars / Which want us not.