A MAN'S THOUGHT
I SOUGHT one snare that might enmesh,
One spell to sway the perfect whole;
The rose and lily of set flesh,
The dew and fire of her soul.
Poor finite Love! that still must crave,
And vainly crave the full control:
This rose has blossomed on her grave,
That star is brighter for her soul.
A WOMAN'S THOUGHT
I AM stained by all your sin,
I must drink your deadly wine.
When you lose I cannot win,
Since I suffer for your sin.
In your human, my divine
Must be lost for ever;
My pure pearl flung to your swine,
Ever and for ever!
81
