Page:Lyrics of Life, Coates, 1909.djvu/57

 Rh The Play—what matter?—it drew near the end,

Scarce marked by me. You know the rest, my friend:

Waiting I sat there full of sad desire,

When, suddenly, it came—that cry of "Fire!"

How suddenly! I started to my feet:

But—as when two on-rushing torrents meet

And break the one the other—mad with fear,

The panic-stricken people, deaf to hear

Counsel or warning, in that burning tomb

Hurtled each other, battling to their doom.

Kind God, blot out the scene—soon past!

I to a column near me clinging fast,

Resisted the fell tide that onward bore

Its helpless prey with hideous uproar.

Twice had I lost my footing; yet I clave,

As one who struggles more than life to save—

My every thought of her; but when at last,

Sore bruised and breathless, as one shoreward cast

After rude shipwreck, I dared raise my eyes—

Seeking in that vast Hell my Paradise,—

There, like some virgin image carved in stone,

She stood in her white radiance—alone.