Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/157

 All men so smoothly cheated of their own!— And when I slay this dragon, I have all.

I cannot stir now. Many a knotted tress Is on me, like a thousand-threaded chain Twined many times about my limbs. I dream No more: I feel her small and gliding hands Seek mine; and while the burning rapid words Her full heart furnishes hiss in mine ear, My sight is peering blindly through the dark Of her vast hair—a cavernous abyss Of blackness traversed by mad shooting sparks Or fearful gleams of blood.—What things she says! "—Let this be as it were my bridal night, If you doubt all the Past. I am yours now; Take this for the beginning, and trust me; I will be yours for ever,—not a look, A word, a thought shall e'er dishonour you."— And, if I had not heard this very thing Before, once, twice, innumerable times, I should not plunge as I do now, my head Still deeper in the fathomless dark hair,