THE LOWEST ROOM.
111
"Then captive in an alien house,
Hungering on exile's bitter bread—
They happy, they who won the lot
Of sacrifice," she said.
Hungering on exile's bitter bread—
They happy, they who won the lot
Of sacrifice," she said.
Speaking she faltered, while her look
Showed forth her passion like a glass:
With hand suspended, kindling eye,
Flushed cheek, how fair she was!
Showed forth her passion like a glass:
With hand suspended, kindling eye,
Flushed cheek, how fair she was!
"Ah well, be those the days of dross;
This, if you will, the age of gold:
Yet had those days a spark of warmth,
While these are somewhat cold—
This, if you will, the age of gold:
Yet had those days a spark of warmth,
While these are somewhat cold—
"Are somewhat mean and cold and slow,
Are stunted from heroic growth:
We gain but little when we prove
The worthlessness of both."
Are stunted from heroic growth:
We gain but little when we prove
The worthlessness of both."
"But life is in our hands," she said:
"In our own hands for gain or loss:
Shall not the Sevenfold Sacred Fire
Suffice to purge our dross?
"In our own hands for gain or loss:
Shall not the Sevenfold Sacred Fire
Suffice to purge our dross?
"Too short a century of dreams,
One day of work sufficient length:
Why should not you, why should not I
Attain heroic strength?
One day of work sufficient length:
Why should not you, why should not I
Attain heroic strength?
