I am to follow her. There is much grace In women when thus bent on martyrdom. They think that dignity of soul may come, Perchance, with dignity of body. Base! But I was taken by that air of cold And statuesque sedateness, when she said 'I'm going'; lit a taper, bowed her head, And went, as with the stride of Pallas bold. Fleshly indifference horrible! The hands Of Time now signal: O, she's safe from me! Within those secret walls what do I see? Where first she set the taper down she stands: Not Pallas: Hebe shamed! Thoughts black as death Like a stirred pool in sunshine break. Her wrists I catch: she faltering, as she half resists, 'You love . . . ? love . . . ? love . . . ?' all on an indrawn breath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REMEMBRANCE by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE SHEPHERDESS by ALICE MEYNELL SONNET: 12 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE MYRMIDONES: THE WOUNDED EAGLE by AESCHYLUS WOULD I KNEW! by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM MONICA'S LAST PRAYER by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE JEWISH MARTYRS by W. V. B. SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 2. THE FLOWER ASLEEP by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |