Page:Wessex poems and other verses (IA wessexpoemsother00hard).pdf/23



F but some vengeful god would call to me From up the sky, and laugh: "Thou suffering thing, Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy, That thy love's loss is my hate's profiting!"

Then would I bear, and clench myself, and die, Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited; Half-cased, too, that a Powerfuller than I Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.