A Trois Temps.
84
And only lives because of Death's release,
The death of earthly satisfactions and———
The death of earthly satisfactions and———
He—
I almost could believe you do not know
What loving means! Yet, no! Forgive me, dear.
Some other time I'll follow you, and feel
What you would have me feel, but now my soul,
And mind, and spirit are grown sick and numb,
And I am nothing but a man, not dead,
Nor risen, nor transfigured—just a man
Alive and loving you, whose pulses beat
Loud drums of revolution, whose hot blood
Is surging through his veins like liquid fire,
Whose heart is thundering out with every throb
The death-knell of delay. In vain you hold
His happiness before mine eyes a thing
Fenced round and sacred. Let him feel the edge
Of this keen tooth that gnaws into my life.
Because he loves you is no reason why
My hand should stay from smiting, though 'tis true
That if he had not loved you well his life
Had long ago paid forfeit. I'd have stamped
The breath from out his body, as I tread
I almost could believe you do not know
What loving means! Yet, no! Forgive me, dear.
Some other time I'll follow you, and feel
What you would have me feel, but now my soul,
And mind, and spirit are grown sick and numb,
And I am nothing but a man, not dead,
Nor risen, nor transfigured—just a man
Alive and loving you, whose pulses beat
Loud drums of revolution, whose hot blood
Is surging through his veins like liquid fire,
Whose heart is thundering out with every throb
The death-knell of delay. In vain you hold
His happiness before mine eyes a thing
Fenced round and sacred. Let him feel the edge
Of this keen tooth that gnaws into my life.
Because he loves you is no reason why
My hand should stay from smiting, though 'tis true
That if he had not loved you well his life
Had long ago paid forfeit. I'd have stamped
The breath from out his body, as I tread
