- THE MASK
WITH treacheries bitter and deep
I have kept my place.
With a mask like the mask of sleep
I have covered my face.
I have smiled while my heart beneath
Was deadly with fate,
And the sword in my jewelled sheath
Was white with my hate.
But now as you lift up your hand,
Light as a flower,
By the word of the wind in the sand
I know it, my hour!
And I drop my mask and let fall
The sheath from my sword —
You shall know me, O my one of all,
As I am before God !