36
THE BROTHER'S HAND.
"No, it is mine," each to the other said,
And one raised up an angry arm and made
A quick wide wound, that looked so strange and red
Each of the other dimly felt afraid.
Then a child-Cain in shadowy terror stood,
And, crying from the ground, his brother's blood
Rose from the pleasant shore where they had played.
And one raised up an angry arm and made
A quick wide wound, that looked so strange and red
Each of the other dimly felt afraid.
Then a child-Cain in shadowy terror stood,
And, crying from the ground, his brother's blood
Rose from the pleasant shore where they had played.
That sharp, swift cut had cleft the two apart.
And, under his light, lovely hair, one wore
A strange-shaped scar. And in the other's heart,
A heart that had been very sweet before,
The snake-like passions started from their sleep
And over it began to writhe and creep.
And so the two were two for evermore,
And, under his light, lovely hair, one wore
A strange-shaped scar. And in the other's heart,
A heart that had been very sweet before,
The snake-like passions started from their sleep
And over it began to writhe and creep.
And so the two were two for evermore,
As they grew older, he who wore the scar
Saw it was like a hand—his brother's hand,
It seemed, against him. Then he went afar
With a kind kinsman to a colder land,
After he heard the dust begin to fall
On his young mother's coffin. She was all
He had dear. And she was what the shadows are.
Saw it was like a hand—his brother's hand,
It seemed, against him. Then he went afar
With a kind kinsman to a colder land,
After he heard the dust begin to fall
On his young mother's coffin. She was all
He had dear. And she was what the shadows are.
