A STORY OF DOOM




POEMS




ROSAMUND.


_His blew His winds, and they were scattered._

'One soweth and another reapeth.'
Ay,
Too true, too true. One soweth--unaware
Cometh a reaper stealthily while he dreams--
Bindeth the golden sheaf, and in his bosom
As 't were between the dewfall and the dawn
Bears it away. Who other was to blame?
Is it I? Is it I?--No verily, not I,
'T was a good action, and I smart therefore;
Oblivion of a righteous enmity
Wrought me this wrong. I pay with my self ruth
That I had ruth toward mine enemy;
It needed not to slay mine enemy,
Only to let him lie and succourless
Drift to the foot o' the Everlasting Throne;