Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/134

 "And yet some bitter ones, whom coming night Hath wholly entered, grudge man this small right Of joy, and seek to fill His rushing moment with the monstrous hiss Of shapeless terrors, poisoning the bliss Brief nestled in his bosom—merely till  Forced out by its death chill!

"What voice is this the envious wilderness Hath sent among us foully to distress And haunt our lives with fear? What vulture, shrieking on the scent of death— What yelping jackal—what insidious breath Of pestilence hath ventured to draw near,  And enter even here?

"No kindred flesh of fair humanity Yon fiend hath, seeking through lives doomed to die Death's foretaste to infuse: His body is but raised up from the slain Unburied thousands that long years have lain About the desert: Death himself doth choose  His pale disguise to use.