The Story
of Saville
But knitted with intimate penetrant pangs, as bone knitteth into bone,
By the hours when shuddering nature brings to racking reluctant birth
Another soul to unravel anew the painful riddle of earth,—
By the nights in the chamber of sickness when the horror of death cleaves through,
And one fears to wipe or to leave unwiped the brow of its clustering dew,—
By the time when the last hard gasp is hushed and the poor little body lies still—
O God! I have not forgotten! Let any write of it who will!
By the kisses that leaven the soddenest lives, the kisses that stab as with spears
Of rapture the dull integument of the sordid and leaden-paced years,
Kisses for which full many a man and maiden have counted it well
To court dishonor and death and burn forever in burning hell,—
Shall a slight thing come to dissever the twain cemented thus heart to heart?
Shall they sundered be though earth divides? Can God even drive them apart?
