POTIPHAR'S WIFE
17
If I should sell white virtue for a kiss,
And break the bright glass of unstained faith
To burn for shame when our Lord Itfîr saith
And break the bright glass of unstained faith
To burn for shame when our Lord Itfîr saith
XXXIV.
"'Yûsuf, my Trusted!' By the living Lord,
Whose lamp the sun is, seeing everywhere,
Too sore I pity thee! Too soon the word
Of 'yea' would leap, if it were only fear
Which locks it in my lips: oh, let me go
And on some other day this might be so!"
"'Yûsuf, my Trusted!' By the living Lord,
Whose lamp the sun is, seeing everywhere,
Too sore I pity thee! Too soon the word
Of 'yea' would leap, if it were only fear
Which locks it in my lips: oh, let me go
And on some other day this might be so!"
XXXV.
"Nay, nay!" she cries: "For me is no to-morrow!
Who, dying in a desert, puts aside
The water-skin? Who, holding cure of sorrow,
Bears on with agony? When could betide
A better time than now, a surer spot?
What's wrought the Gods themselves will witness not!"
"Nay, nay!" she cries: "For me is no to-morrow!
Who, dying in a desert, puts aside
The water-skin? Who, holding cure of sorrow,
Bears on with agony? When could betide
A better time than now, a surer spot?
What's wrought the Gods themselves will witness not!"
