A Confession

These are the facts:— I was to blame:

I brought her here and wrought her shame:

She came with me all trustingly.

Lovely and innocent her face:

And in her perfect form, the grace

Of purity and modesty.

I think I loved her then:‘ would dote

On her ambrosial breast and throat,

Young as a blossom's tenderness:

Her eyes, that were both glad and sad:

Her cheeks and chin, that dimples had:

Her mouth, red-ripe to kiss and kiss.

Three months passed by; three moons of fire;

When in me sickened all desire:

And in its place a devil,— who

Filled all my soul with deep disgust,

And on the victim of my lust

Turned eyes of loathing,— swiftly grew.

One night, when by my side she slept,

I rose: and leaning, while I kept

The dagger hid, I kissed her hair

And throat: and, when she smiled asleep,

Into her heart I drove it deep:

And left her dead, still smiling there.