 | The Cup of Quietness |  |
30
TO A COQUETTE
Bright poison-flower, whereat who sips
For love's pure honey vainly sighs;
Hearing thee lie with those prim lips,
Seeing thee stab with those keen eyes,
For love's pure honey vainly sighs;
Hearing thee lie with those prim lips,
Seeing thee stab with those keen eyes,
Almost I would my fate were his
Who blindly flings his burning heart
At thy cold feet, so bitter 'tis
To know thee for the thing thou art;
Who blindly flings his burning heart
At thy cold feet, so bitter 'tis
To know thee for the thing thou art;
To know what subtle snares infest
Those trustful ways, what torments hide
For captured victims in that breast,
The marble home of heartless pride;
Those trustful ways, what torments hide
For captured victims in that breast,
The marble home of heartless pride;
To know an evil spirit works
In looks that seem so sweetly shy,
Beneath that cloak of kindness lurks
The coward steel of cruelty.
In looks that seem so sweetly shy,
Beneath that cloak of kindness lurks
The coward steel of cruelty.
31
Those simple words, those modest wiles
Are but the mask of proud desire;
A harlot—thou dost sell thy smiles,
With broken hearts of boys for hire;
Are but the mask of proud desire;
A harlot—thou dost sell thy smiles,
With broken hearts of boys for hire;
Thy soul's insatiate vanity
Must evermore be freshly fed
On bleeding youth; less guilty she
Who barters loveliness for bread,
Must evermore be freshly fed
On bleeding youth; less guilty she
Who barters loveliness for bread,
Than thou, who, donning love's disguise
To hide thy cruel lust, dost prey
On honest hearts, and serpent-wise
Dost only fascinate to slay.
To hide thy cruel lust, dost prey
On honest hearts, and serpent-wise
Dost only fascinate to slay.
O gifted with a power above
All powers, dost think God's bounteous will
Gave it that thou might'st murder love,
And, cat-like, torture ere thou kill?
All powers, dost think God's bounteous will
Gave it that thou might'st murder love,
And, cat-like, torture ere thou kill?
Down on thy knees, poor child, and pray
Thy beauty may not long survive
To swell the penance thou must pay
If thou would'st save thy soul alive.
Thy beauty may not long survive
To swell the penance thou must pay
If thou would'st save thy soul alive.
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