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 slewWith 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 killedWith 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.