Breathe not again, sweet breath, lest her delicate heart Now, now at the point of rest, awakened be And see the fine, the slender and polished dart Leveled against her breast, wielded by me. To harm, to affright her -- no, not I. But see, Necessity compels -- that in her death She of an ancient woe released be And I assume the burden of her breath. She of my anguish is the vital part. Lo, in a garden of roses all encased She nurtured me, but bore alone the smart Of thorns, that was my rightful heritage. |