Page:Songs of exile (IA songsofexile00daviiala).pdf/45

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I will cut off and cast away my crown

Of locks, and curse the season which profaned

In unclean land the Nazarites, thine own.

How shall it any more be sweet to me

To eat or drink, while dogs all unrestrained

Thy tender whelps devouring I must see?

Or how shall light of day at all be sweet

Unto mine eyes, while still I see them killed—

Thine eagles—caught in ravens' mouths for meat?

O cup of sorrow! gently! let thy stress

Desist a little! for my reins are filled

Already, and my soul, with bitterness,

I, calling back Aholah's memory,

Drink thine hot poison; and remembering

Aholibah, I drain the dregs of thee.