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The Monster


The Monster

" IN place of the heart, a serpent ; 
Rage for the mind's command ; 
An eye aflame with wildness ; 
A weapon in the hand ; 

" A brow with midnight clouded ; 
On the lips a cynic smile 
That tells of a curse unmatchable 
Born of a sin most vile. 

" Of longing, or hope, or virtue, 
No vestige may there be ; 
You, even in vice inhuman 
What can you want of me ? 

" You in its maddest moment 
The Deepest Pit designed, 
Let loose to sow confusion 
In the order of mankind ; 

" Here Hatred found you crawling 
Like vermin, groveling, prone, 
Filled you with blood of others 
And poisoned all your own. 

" Your very thoughts are fiendish 
Smoke of the fires of Hell. 
Weird as you are, how is it 
I seem to know you well ? 

" Why with your wild delirium 
Do you infect my sleep ? 
Why with my daily footstep 
An equal measure keep ? " 

The monster mutely beckons me 
Back with his ghostly hand, 
And dreading his fearful answer 
I heed the grim command. 

" Nay, softly," he says ; " I pray thee, 
Silence thy frightened moan, 
And wipe the sweat from thy forehead 
My kinsman thou, my own! 

" Look at me well, good cousin ; 
Such wert thou fashioned of ! 
Thou, too, wouldst me resemble 
Without that magic Love!" 

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