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Sonnets of the Wingless Hours

By Eugene Lee-Hamilton
  
  

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THE ‘EISERNE JUNGFRAU.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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58

THE ‘EISERNE JUNGFRAU.’

TO FATE.

Thou art that Virgin all of screws and steel,
Born in some feudal dungeon of the Rhine,
Whose arms were lined with knives; whose gory shrine
Stood in the torture-room with rack and wheel.
First at her feet they made the victim kneel,
Then kiss her lips; and, on a silent sign,
Her steel arms opened—daggers line on line—
And gave the hug that never walls reveal.
Thy arms of horror close not upon all:
Long whiles they never move; and nothing shows
What means the silent riddle of thy face.
But now and then, when scarcely we recall
What thing thou art, they turn upon their screws
And lock us in their murderous embrace.