A Trois Temps.
81
And every good a sneering Fate could pour
From brimming hands, but one—the only one—
A slip of womanhood with burnished hair
And frightened eyes, and little hands that cling
In vain entreaty—yes—in vain, I said.
No! No! I am not drunk, save with excess
Of abstinence, a pale and fumeless wine!
Too long I have been sane, and let my life
Ooze out at every moment and enrich
The swollen flood of Hades with the drops
Of my vicarious anguish. Let me now
Be mad for preference. Ay! be mad, and let
The savage in me break his chains, and send
His war-cry pealing through this feeble din,
And fight as savages can fight, and win,
For—little trembling one—I'll fight to win
Because I fight for you———
From brimming hands, but one—the only one—
A slip of womanhood with burnished hair
And frightened eyes, and little hands that cling
In vain entreaty—yes—in vain, I said.
No! No! I am not drunk, save with excess
Of abstinence, a pale and fumeless wine!
Too long I have been sane, and let my life
Ooze out at every moment and enrich
The swollen flood of Hades with the drops
Of my vicarious anguish. Let me now
Be mad for preference. Ay! be mad, and let
The savage in me break his chains, and send
His war-cry pealing through this feeble din,
And fight as savages can fight, and win,
For—little trembling one—I'll fight to win
Because I fight for you———
She—
Oh hush! oh hush! My life is in your hand,
Do not destroy it idly. Only think
One moment what it means to me who fight
Always, alone, unaided. Will you crush
My soul to free my body? Lift the gyves
Oh hush! oh hush! My life is in your hand,
Do not destroy it idly. Only think
One moment what it means to me who fight
Always, alone, unaided. Will you crush
My soul to free my body? Lift the gyves
