An Empty Glass.
205
Her wifely rights. By heaven! I feel my teeth
Gritting already, as a lioness
Snarls in her throat at footsteps near her cubs,
And draws her muscles ready for the spring.
I was not made for such restraints as these,
I should go mad. And just another ten,
No alien hand should ever lie in his,
No lips taste his. He'd he forever mine
Through all the ages, and what easier
Than I to follow, plunging in the calm
And icy sea of Death this quivering brain
That only feels to suffer. Cold and still!
How subtly it invites and beckons me.
Max cold and still? and dead? Oh Max! and dead!
Corruption feeding on his kingly heart,
The beauty of his face and on the eyes
That light so quick with tenderness, death's scum
And horror upon horror. No! No! No!
I cannot see him dead. Alive and warm
And laughing in the sunlight. Quick and gay,
The red blood rioting along his veins,
A lustre on his close-clipped hair, my name
Springing in liquid syllables of love
Upon his lips. Yes! Yes! and he shall live
To love me still. To love me? Oh, my heart!
Gritting already, as a lioness
Snarls in her throat at footsteps near her cubs,
And draws her muscles ready for the spring.
I was not made for such restraints as these,
I should go mad. And just another ten,
No alien hand should ever lie in his,
No lips taste his. He'd he forever mine
Through all the ages, and what easier
Than I to follow, plunging in the calm
And icy sea of Death this quivering brain
That only feels to suffer. Cold and still!
How subtly it invites and beckons me.
Max cold and still? and dead? Oh Max! and dead!
Corruption feeding on his kingly heart,
The beauty of his face and on the eyes
That light so quick with tenderness, death's scum
And horror upon horror. No! No! No!
I cannot see him dead. Alive and warm
And laughing in the sunlight. Quick and gay,
The red blood rioting along his veins,
A lustre on his close-clipped hair, my name
Springing in liquid syllables of love
Upon his lips. Yes! Yes! and he shall live
To love me still. To love me? Oh, my heart!
