MADAME DE BRINVILLIERS TO HER ART.
(1675.)
Some love to look into their lover's eyes,
And some to watch a baby in its sleep,
And some to count the jewels that they keep,
And some to watch the fading summer skies;
But I prefer to watch the numbness rise
To my prey's heart, and slowly make death creep
Through unsuspicious veins; or watch the deep
Blue eye-rims grow, till cold and stark he lies.
There is no art like that of taking life:
A pinch of dust, three little measured drops,
Can end great wars or plunge mankind in strife.
The weakest hand can shake the world's great props,
Cut through the plans of men with shadowy knife,
And, unsuspected, thin the human crops.
