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BURNT OFFERING.
181
"Ah me! My Lord could not this thing have meant!
He well might loathe me ever, if I go
Before these drunken princes as a show.
I am his queen; I come of king's descent.
I will not let him bring our crown so low;
He will but bless me when he doth repent!"


BURNT OFFERING.
THE fire leaped up, swift, hot, and red;
Swift, hot, and red, waiting a prey;
The woman came with swift, light tread,
And silently knelt down to lay
Armfuls of leaves upon the fire,
As men lay fagots on a pyre.

Armfuls of leaves which had been bright
Like painter's tints six months before,
All faded now, a ghastly sight,
Dusty and colorless, she bore,
And knelt and piled them on the fire,
As men lay fagots on the pyre.

Watching the crackle and the blaze,
Idly I smiled and idly said:
"Good-by, dead leaves, go dead leaves' ways.
Next year there will be more as red."
The woman turned, and from the fire
Looked up as from a funeral-pyre.