Page:The Statues in the Block and Other Poems (1881).djvu/20

Across the burning murder in his side—
And now he sinks still glaring—And my heart
Is there between them, petrified, O God!
And pierced by that red blow that struck their guilt.
O balm and torture! he must hate who loves,
And bleed who strikes to see thy face, Revenge!"

Grown deep the silence for the words that died,
And paler still the marble for its grief.

"Ah, myrrh and honey!" spake a third, whose eyes
Were deep with sorrow for the woe; "blind hands
That grope for flowers and pierce the flesh with thorns!
All love of woman still may turn to hate,
As wine to bitterness, as noon to night.
But sweeter far and deeper than the love
Of flesh for flesh, is the strong bond of hearts
For suffering Motherland—to make her free!
Love's joy is short, and Hate's black triumph bitter,
And loves and hates are selfish save for thee,