TOO LATE.
59
4.
But, dead! All ’s done with: wait who may,
Watch and wear and wonder who will.
Oh, my whole life that ends to-day!
Oh, my soul’s sentence, sounding still,
“The woman is dead that was none of his;
And the man that was none of hers may go!”
There’s only the past left: worry that!
Wreak, like a bull, on the empty coat,
Rage, its late wearer is laughing at!
Tear the collar to rags, having missed his throat;
Strike stupidly on—“This, this and this,
Where I would that a bosom received the blow!
But, dead! All ’s done with: wait who may,
Watch and wear and wonder who will.
Oh, my whole life that ends to-day!
Oh, my soul’s sentence, sounding still,
“The woman is dead that was none of his;
And the man that was none of hers may go!”
There’s only the past left: worry that!
Wreak, like a bull, on the empty coat,
Rage, its late wearer is laughing at!
Tear the collar to rags, having missed his throat;
Strike stupidly on—“This, this and this,
Where I would that a bosom received the blow!
5.
I ought to have done more: once my speech,
And once your answer, and there, the end,
And Edith was henceforth out of reach!
Why, men do more to deserve a friend,
Be rid of a foe, get rich, grow wise,
Nor, folding their arms, stare fate in the face.
Why, better even have burst like a thief
And borne you away to a rock for us two,
In a moment’s horror, bright, bloody and brief,
Then changed to myself again—“I slew
Myself in that moment; a ruffian lies
Somewhere: your slave, see, born in his place!”
I ought to have done more: once my speech,
And once your answer, and there, the end,
And Edith was henceforth out of reach!
Why, men do more to deserve a friend,
Be rid of a foe, get rich, grow wise,
Nor, folding their arms, stare fate in the face.
Why, better even have burst like a thief
And borne you away to a rock for us two,
In a moment’s horror, bright, bloody and brief,
Then changed to myself again—“I slew
Myself in that moment; a ruffian lies
Somewhere: your slave, see, born in his place!”
