Of my dying brain, till, with her hand, she bade
Them falter, and they stayed, while, eagerly, she propped
My listless head that dropped downward from my shoulders,
And slowly raised it up, raised it like a cup
Unto her lips again,
Then shuddered, trembled, shrunk, as though her mouth had drunk
A potion where the fell fire of poison smoulders.
And a darkness came, and I could see no more,
But in my ears the roar of lonely torrents swelled
And stilled my breath for ever, as though a wave appalling