 | Lyrics and Dramas |  |
76
A BALLAD
I
“Give me to drink,” the sick man cried,And straight his wife was at his side;
He drank and of the draught he died.
II
That draught was brewed from drops of hell;The mortal drink she mixed so well,
He back upon the pillow fell.
III
Adown the stairway slid she white,She felt a hot kiss without sight,
And all the dark was falsely bright.
| Lyrics and Dramas | |