From far-off it came near
Deep-charactered and clear,
Until I saw the features close to mine
And the eyes unhappy shine.
It was Sorrow's face,
Wanting kindness and grace,
And wanting strength of silence, and the power
To abide a luckier hour.
The first fear turned to hating
As I saw him dumbly waiting,
For it was my true likeness that he wore
And would wear evermore:—
My face that was to be
When his years’ misery
With here a little and there a little had made
My strong spirit afraid.
I saw his face and hated,
Seeing mine so sad-fated.
And then I struck and killed him, knowing that he
Had else slain me.