My Soul -- accused me -- And I quailed
H. Clarke
My Soul -- accused me -- And I quailed --
As Tongue of Diamond had reviled
All else accused me -- and I smiled --
My Soul -- that Morning -- was My friend --
Her favor -- is the best Disdain
Toward Artifice of Time -- or Men --
But Her Disdain -- 'twere lighter bear
A finger of Enamelled Fire --