Others, I am not the first,
Agued once like me were they,
Have willed more mischief than
they durst:
If in the breathless night I too
Shiver now, 'tis nothing new.
More than I, if truth were told,
Have stood and sweated hot and cold,
And through their reins in ice
and fire
Fear contended with desire.
But I like them shall win my way
Lastly to the bed of mould
Where there's neither heat
nor cold.
But from my grave across my brow
Plays no wind of healing now,
And fire and ice within me fight
Beneath the suffocating night.
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Page last updated: 11 November 1998 ©1998-1999, Richard J. Yanco |