Poem for the Day ‘And are these cold, light words your last?’ he said, And rose, his face made pale with outraged love. She answered gaily, ‘Are they not enough?’ And lightly laughed until his spirit bled, While snake-like on his grief her beauty fed. He looked upon her face once more for proof, Then through and through his lips the sharp teeth drove, Till with the bitter dew of blood made red. At length he said, ‘And so ‘twas but a jest, Yet now may God forgive you, if God can!’ And, passing, left her calm and self-possessed. She watched him cross the lawn with eyes bent low, Where she had kissed his face one hour ago. Loves Warfare Philip Bourke Marston
Posted on: Mon, 21 Apr 2014 08:54:00 +0000
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