That moment she was mine, mine, fair, Perfectly pure and good: I found A thing to do, and all her hair In one long yellow string I wound Three times her little throat around, And strangled her. No pain felt she; I am quite sure she felt no pain. As a shut bud that holds a bee, I warily oped her lids: again Laughed the blue eyes without a stain. And I untightened the next tress About her neck; her cheek once more Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss . . .

I do what many dream of, all their lives

Truth is truth howe'er it strike.

The best way to excape his ire Is, not to seem too happy.

Such ever was love's way: to rise, it stoops.

Ah, love, - you are my unutterable blessing.....I am in full sunshine now.

Who knows but the world may end tonight