’Why did you leave last night so early?’ Was all that Olga, smiling, said. Poor Lensky’s muddled mind was swirling, And silently he hung his head. All jealousy and rage departed Before that gaze so openhearted, Before that soft and simple trust, Before that soul so bright and just! With misty eyes he looks on sweetly And sees the truth: she loves him yet! Tormented now by deep regret, He craves her pardon so completely, He trembles, hunts for words in vain: He’s happy now, he’s almost sane….
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