clasped Roger Montrose with both hands by the arm, While her cheek pressed his shoulder. An agony, sweet And unbearable, thrilled from his head to his feet, His veins were like rivers, with billows of fire: His will lost control; and long fettered desire Slipped its leash. He caught Mabel Lee to his breast, Drew her face up to his, on her frightened lips pressed Wild caresses of passion that startled and shocked. Like a madman he looked, like a madman he talked, Waiting not for reply, with no pause but a kiss, While his iron arms welded her bosom to his. "Girl, girl, you demanded my secret," he cried; "Well, that bruise on your lips tells the story! I tried, Good God, how I tried! to be silent and go Without speaking one word, without letting you know That I loved you; yet how could you look in my eyes And not see love was there like the sun in the skies? Ah, those hands on my arm—that dear head lightly pressed On my shoulder! God, woman, the heart in my breast Was dry powder, your touch was the spark; and the blame Must be yours if both lives are scorched black with the flame. Do you hate me, despise me, for being so weak? No, no! let me kiss you again ere you speak! You are mine for the moment; and mine—mine alone Is the first taste of passion your soft mouth has known. Whoever forestalls me in winning your hand, Between you and him shall this mad moment stand— You shall think of me, though you think only to hate. There—speak to me—speak to me—tell me my fate; On your words, Mabel Lee, hangs my whole future life. I covet you, covet you, sweet, for my wife; I want to stay here at your side. Since I first Saw your face I have felt an unquenchable thirst To be good—to look deep in your eyes and find God, And to leave in the past the dark paths I have trod In my search after pleasure. Ah, must I go back Into folly again, to retread the old track Which leads out into nothingness? Girl, answer me, As souls answer at Judgment." 

 The face of the sea Shone with sudden pink splendor. The riotous wind Swooned away with exhaustion. Each dark cloud seemed lined With vermilion. The tempest was over. A word Floated up like a feather; the silence was stirred By the soul of a sigh. The last remnant of gray In the skies turned to gold, as a voice whispered, "Stay." 

The face of the sea

 

  God grinds His poor people to powder All day and all night I can hear, Their cries growing louder and louder. Oh, God, have You deadened Your ear?  

All day and all night I can hear,

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