A FORGIVENESS.
159
Silk, feather—every bird of jewelled breast—
This poniard's beauty, ne'er so lightly prest
Above your heart there . . ."
This poniard's beauty, ne'er so lightly prest
Above your heart there . . ."
"Thus?"
"It flows, I see.
Dip there the point and write!"
Dip there the point and write!"
"Dictate to me!
Nay, I remember."
And she wrote the words.
I read them. Then—"Since love, in you, affords
Licence for hate, in me, to quench (I say)
Contempt—why, hate itself has passed away
Nay, I remember."
And she wrote the words.
I read them. Then—"Since love, in you, affords
Licence for hate, in me, to quench (I say)
Contempt—why, hate itself has passed away
