Page:Agamemnon (1877) Browning.djvu/150

134 I fear the bloody crash of the rain

That ruins the roof as it bursts amain:

The warning-drop

Has come to a stop.

Destiny doth Justice whet

For other deed of hurt, on other whetstones yet.

Woe, earth, earth—would thou hadst taken me

Ere I saw the man I see,

On the pallet-bed

Of the silver-sided bath-vase, dead!

Who is it shall bury him, who

Sing his dirge? Can it be true

That thou wilt dare this same to do—

Having slain thy husband, thine own,

To make his funeral moan: