Her Dilemma

HE 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.