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 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
I.
Unto the awful Temptress at my side,
From whose embrace comes madness at the end,
I said, “I will not yield, but will defend
My weary soul till body and soul divide.”
“Art thou so much in love with grief?” she cried,
“That thou wilt have no other love or friend?”
I answered her, “In guile thou dost transcend
All other foes who have my strength defied.”
From whose embrace comes madness at the end,
I said, “I will not yield, but will defend
My weary soul till body and soul divide.”
“Art thou so much in love with grief?” she cried,
“That thou wilt have no other love or friend?”
I answered her, “In guile thou dost transcend
All other foes who have my strength defied.”
“Once thou didst tarry in my halls,” quoth she,
“And to fair chambers were thy footsteps led.”
“Blood-red and hot thy kisses were,” I said,
“Thralled was I, then, who now, at least, am free;
But if again those floors my feet should tread,
Then thou and Hell should have me utterly.”
“And to fair chambers were thy footsteps led.”
“Blood-red and hot thy kisses were,” I said,
“Thralled was I, then, who now, at least, am free;
But if again those floors my feet should tread,
Then thou and Hell should have me utterly.”
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |