vi

I chose a heart out of a hundred To nest my own heart in; To have that plunder'd, and two hearts sunder'd — Who had heart for the sin?

What woman's son that saw but one Such sanctuary waste Could set his lips like ironstone And raven broadcast?

What harm did we to any man That now I must moan? We did but follow Nature's plan And cleave to our own;

For Life it teaches you but this: Seek you each other; Rise up from your clasp and kiss, A father and a mother.

O piety of hand and knee, Of lips and bow'd head! O ye who see a soul set free — Free, when the heart is dead!

There is no rest but in the grave; Thither my wasted eyes Turn for the only home they have, Where my true love lies.

There alongside his clay-cold corse I pray that mine may rest; I'll warm him with my lover's force And feed him at my breast:

I'll nurse him as I nurst his child, The child he never saw, The stricken child that never smil'd. And scarce my milk could draw.

Poor girls, whose argument's the same For seeking or denying, Who kiss to shield yourselves from blame, And kiss for justifying;

How am I better now or worse, Beguiler or beguiled, Who crave to nurse a clay-cold corse, And kiss a dead child?