The Broken Wing/Love's Guerdon
4. Love's Guerdon
Fierce were the wounds you struck me, O my Love,
And bitter were the blows! . . .
Sweeter from your dear hands all suffering
Than rich love-tokens other comrades bring
Of crimson oleander and of rose.
And bitter were the blows! . . .
Sweeter from your dear hands all suffering
Than rich love-tokens other comrades bring
Of crimson oleander and of rose.
Cold was your cruel laughter, O my Love,
And cruel were your words! . . .
Sweeter such harshness on your lips than all
Love-orisons from tender lips that fall,
And soft love-music of chakora-birds.
And cruel were your words! . . .
Sweeter such harshness on your lips than all
Love-orisons from tender lips that fall,
And soft love-music of chakora-birds.
You plucked my heart and broke it, O my Love,
And bleeding, flung it down! . . .
Sweeter to die thus trodden of your feet,
Than reign apart upon an ivory seat
Crowned in a lonely rapture of renown.
And bleeding, flung it down! . . .
Sweeter to die thus trodden of your feet,
Than reign apart upon an ivory seat
Crowned in a lonely rapture of renown.