Holy of holies Confessions of an anarchist [by J. E. Barlas] |
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37
XXXIII.
[Back looking through life's tear-dimmed bitter vale]
Back looking through life's tear-dimmed bitter valeWhat shadows rise that make me blush and start!
Yes, Violet, I have deeply stained my heart
With many an act that makes my cheek turn pale.
Who lives that hath not wrought some deed of bale
He shrinks from, hath not some time played the part
Of cruelty? And there are thoughts that smart
Like venomed arrows 'neath my bosom's mail.
Straight out I own them now to all mankind.
What should I fear from those I loathe and scorn,
Who ne'er shall flinch 'neath Heaven's eternal rod?
But that this miracle be known, a mind
So sunk, by love in spirit newly born,
Having been devil I will be a god.
Feb. 3rd, 1886.
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