Above the vile defenceless weak!

O we will escape

And cast us to its shape;

Its fire shall not touch,

We will not crack or smutch.

We have an amulet,

For any black threat;

To what is now within—

That it is good to win.

To be weak than strong,

And their love a thong.

With eyes like stone,

We will walk alone.

THE ONE

sad, the dying leaf shakes on the tree,

moans like moaning of the sea,

And sour's the taste now culled in haste of

lovely things I won too late,

Voice of One more strong than we.

THE OTHER

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