No answer, yet I called her name, I shook her, but no motion came, She showed no signs of having breath; When, in my fear, the light was sought, The hussy laughed: 'Is this,' I thought -- 'Some strange convulsion after death?' I could have murdered her that hour, To think that she had used such power In making me betray a love Secret and vast, and still unknown; A love half-dreamt, till life is done, And only Death himself can prove. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HAPPY WIND by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES EPITHALAMION MADE AT LINCOLNES INNE by JOHN DONNE WINTRY WEATHER by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) MOTHER O' MINE by RUDYARD KIPLING SONNET: 9 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY |