The Broken Wing/The Menace of Love

​3. The Menace of Love

How long, O Love, shall ruthless pride avail you Or wisdom shield you with her gracious wing, When the sharp winds of memory shall assail you In all the poignant malice of the spring?
All the sealed anguish of my blood shall taunt you In the rich menace of red-flowering trees; The yearning sorrow of my voice shall haunt you In the low wailing of the midnight seas.
The tumult of your own wild heart shall smite you With strong and sleepless pinions of desire. The subtle hunger in your veins shall bite you With swift and unrelenting fangs of fire.
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When youth and spring and passion shall betray you And mock your proud rebellion with defeat, God knows, O Love, if I shall save or slay you As you lie spent and broken at my feet!
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