Love is sore wounded by the dragon shame,
O maiden o' mine! its life in jets of blocd
Languidly ebbs. I see the gathering flame
Aspire — expire. I see the evil flood
Of time roll even and steady over it,
Bearing our God to the accurst ravines;
Bearing our God to the abysmal pit
Whence never a God may rise. The wolfish queens
Of earth have set their faces stern and sour
Against us ; we are bidden to cease — to cease!
Ha ! how eternity laughs down their hour,
Dragoons their malice with its dominant peace.
We are forbidden to love — as one who tries
At noontide to forbid the sun to rise.