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 | Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge |  |
[II
He said, “I take you. Yet the laughter slips]
He said, “I take you. Yet the laughter slips,Mocking your sacrifice. Be still! The phrase
Is vain since sense with equal joy repays
Loss of the soul we crush between our lips.
Where 's soul, my Mistress, when thy finger-tips
Drip wine till candles wither blaze by blaze,
217
Pale drop by drop the ooze of daylight drips?
Why vex the mind? Why ponder—‘Mine the gain
Her gold against my dross;—the sacrifice
Damns in acceptance—Heart must yield the pain
Of Heart due reverence, give the greater gift
Denial?’ To scruple so were over-nice.—
Drown me in all your hair my fingers lift!”
| Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge | |