61 
 
 
 
 
 
AFTER JUDGMENT 
 
So !  Thou has given Thy judgment, God !   
 And I am evermore accurst, 
Cast to the blackness of the abode 
 By Thee—O Thou Who made me first !   
 
Thou Who hast made me, tortured me, 
 Mocked me with life, mocked me with death, 
Mocked me with love—O misery 
 Of each god’s death, of each slave’s breath !   
 
Yea, for that Thou didst give me her— 
 Indeed my Dorothy !  the sun 
That fires my life, the spell to stir 
 My soul’s enchantments every one :   
 
For this I curse Thee !  she was fair 
 As day and brighter than the moon 
And all the gold stung in her hair ;   
 And all the dawn of May—of June !— 
 
Kindled her cheeks ;  her eyes were blue 
 As all Thy skies, as all Thy seas. 
Her mouth—Oh God !  her mouth that slew 
 Imagination’s ecstasies !