THE FORTY-SIXTH DAY 
 
“ Because I love you, I will let you know : 
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  my wife  .  .  .  .  .  .  . 
.  .  .  like a fountain with a hundred spouts 
Did run pure blood.” 
Julius Caesar. 
 
Was it a sense of uttermost relief 
We gladdened with, and bade our fears forget ? 
Was there no subtle fragrance of regret ? 
For me, at least, a pang of perfect grief ? 
Had it been otherwise, I would be chief 
And drive her to abandon all things yet 
In mere despair, that bye and bye shall get 
Young comfort in a babe beyond belief. 
 
God would not curse and bless us to such measure ; 
We were not sad enough nor glad enough ! 
A little time of misery and pleasure ; 
Pain strangling half the ecstasy thereof— 
Such all our gain, who gained the utmost treasure, 
Gift of the wizard wand and cup of love. 
 
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