Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/161

 You will be mine; you are mine; yes, my Love, I do believe you now; I may, I can— (For that sings under the pillow; believe Me!—) I bless and kiss you for them all.

She sleeps.

The Steel is singing to me now; its voice Creeps through and through;—go on, she cannot hear— The things it sings are death and love; ay, love That death keeps true;—She sleeps, she cannot hear.

There is no sort of madness in my brain; But rather a great strength, a calm, as though A more than human spirit dwelt with mine. And yet I do perceive that, since last night, My eyes have been bewildered with the glare Of mighty blades and swords that seem to whirl And strike around me, and transform the world With an exceeding splendour cold and bare; A thousand films are as it were cut through; And all the beauty, supernatural