Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/161

You will be mine; you are mine; yes, my Love,
I do believe you now; I may, I can—
(For that sings under the pillow; believe Me!—)
I bless and kiss you for them all.

                                  She sleeps.

The Steel is singing to me now; its voice
Creeps through and through;—go on, she cannot hear—
The things it sings are death and love; ay, love
That death keeps true;—She sleeps, she cannot hear.

There is no sort of madness in my brain;
But rather a great strength, a calm, as though
A more than human spirit dwelt with mine.
And yet I do perceive that, since last night,
My eyes have been bewildered with the glare
Of mighty blades and swords that seem to whirl
And strike around me, and transform the world
With an exceeding splendour cold and bare;
A thousand films are as it were cut through;
And all the beauty, supernatural