THE LEPER'S BETROTHED
To clasp bis spirit undefiled, my spirit leaped beneath my hand,
He said no sad reproach to me, but only, “Love, I understand.”
O coward my eyes that would not see, held slaves 'neath closing finger-tips;
O coward my flesh that would not let my spirit's whisper through your lips.
He might have said, “This rose I pulled fell not to pieces at my touch;
The robin fled not at my gaze, nor hid from me her feathered clutch;
The evening moon arose as fair with my sad face to look upon;
The sun withdrew no single ray, caressed me as it shone;
The hound still follows at my heel, nor finds me less beloved for this—
But, oh! my love shrinks from my side and trembles at my kiss.
Would you find horror at my touch, or poison at my body's breath,
If but my flesh grew fair again, and my soul darkened with its death?”
God struck him with a fell disease, he said no sad reproach to me.
He left the world of men behind for that sad isle beyond the sea;
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