The Broken Wing/The Slayer

​7. The Slayer

Love, if at dawn some passer-by should say,
"Lo! doth thy garment drip with morning dew?
Thy face perchance is drenched with cold sea-spray.
Thy hair with fallen rain?"
  Make answer: "Nay,
These be the death-drops from sad eyes I slew
With the quick torch of pain."

And if at dusk a reveller should cry,
"What rare vermilion vintage hast thou spilled,
Or is thy robe splashed with the glowing dye
Of some bruised crimson leaf?"
  O Love reply:
"These be the life-drops of a heart I killed
With the swift spear of grief."

This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.