Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/147

 The simplest seeming offering in your hand.

Yes, 'tis a thing at length as good as this The steel is singing to me: did you hear, You should but love it—since it pleads so well It makes me put whole faith in you once more. For now three days and nights indeed—while I, Contending for you with the love I gave Against the curse I owed you, raged and thought It was my madness—O this little voice Was striving with me, singing all the time, Upon a low sweet soothing tune, strange words Of promise that seemed like the distant taunts Of all my past beliefs, and that I sought To cover with my curses; till, last night, My soul grew faint with hearing them—how sweet, How full of good they were. Then I fell still, Yea, stunned, and with my head upon the ground; And through the shut bleared darkness of my eyes, I seemed to see the room about me lit And fearful, and the Sword from off the wall Unscabbarded before me in the midst, Most terrible and living, and in light—