Page:Pacchiarotto and how he worked in distemper; with other poems - Browning (1876).djvu/164

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
152
A FORGIVENESS.
And paper we grow sick of—statesfolk tired
Of merely (when such measures are required)
Dealing out doom to people by three words,
A signature and seal: we play with swords
Suggestive of quick process. That is how
I came to like the toys described you now,
Store of which glittered on the walls and strewed
The table, even, while my wife pursued
Her purpose to its ending. "Now you know
This shame, my three years' torture, let me go,
Burn to the very ashes! You—I lost,
Yet you—I loved!"

The thing I pity most
In men is—action prompted by surprise