 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THY SISTER'S KEEPER.
Sometime in the dead of night,
Sometime between moon and morning,
When the gas a ghostlier light
Gave, and silence dread adorning;
When the last cab crawled away
Heavy, as it homeward lumbered,
And the clocks that spurned delay,
Stoke by stroke their tidings numbered;
Sadder than through flame or flood
Ever broke the rest of sleeper,
Burst the helpless cry of blood—
Man, art thou thy sister's keeper?
Sometime between moon and morning,
When the gas a ghostlier light
Gave, and silence dread adorning;
When the last cab crawled away
Heavy, as it homeward lumbered,
And the clocks that spurned delay,
Stoke by stroke their tidings numbered;
Sadder than through flame or flood
Ever broke the rest of sleeper,
Burst the helpless cry of blood—
Man, art thou thy sister's keeper?
Lust, the mockery of love,
Wooed her in the blossom vernal,
Drew its fashion from above,
Though its fire from depths infernal;
Lulled her by the dainty wiles,
Wont to win a tender woman,
Paid in perjury of smiles,
Yet with nought but semblance human;
Wrapt around her snaky charms,
Twining like a poison creeper,
Languished in her easy arms—
Man, art thou thy sister's keeper?
Wooed her in the blossom vernal,
Drew its fashion from above,
Though its fire from depths infernal;
Lulled her by the dainty wiles,
Wont to win a tender woman,
Paid in perjury of smiles,
Yet with nought but semblance human;
Wrapt around her snaky charms,
Twining like a poison creeper,
Languished in her easy arms—
Man, art thou thy sister's keeper?
Hell had awful power that night,
Sterner than the stormiest billow,
And with all its devils' might,
Played around the victim's pillow;
Feigned the ravishment of bliss,
Yielding to the soft seduction,
While beneath the honeyed kiss
Hid the horror of destruction;
Mimicked every throb of joy,
Palpitating faster, deeper,
Just to make a murder's toy—
Man, art thou thy sister's keeper?
Sterner than the stormiest billow,
And with all its devils' might,
Played around the victim's pillow;
Feigned the ravishment of bliss,
Yielding to the soft seduction,
375
Hid the horror of destruction;
Mimicked every throb of joy,
Palpitating faster, deeper,
Just to make a murder's toy—
Man, art thou thy sister's keeper?
Lo, again the crimson flood
Flashed, and one more erring daughter
With that silent cry of blood,
Sent a hopeless lamb to slaughter;
Tricked and flattered to her fate,
Fallen yet with sister tresses
Tangled round the hand of hate,
Turned to death in mid caresses;
Ah, no more let honour fly
Heedless from the sin of sleeper,
Her exceeding bitter cry—
Man, thou art thy sister's keeper.
Flashed, and one more erring daughter
With that silent cry of blood,
Sent a hopeless lamb to slaughter;
Tricked and flattered to her fate,
Fallen yet with sister tresses
Tangled round the hand of hate,
Turned to death in mid caresses;
Ah, no more let honour fly
Heedless from the sin of sleeper,
Her exceeding bitter cry—
Man, thou art thy sister's keeper.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |