So soft a taper had not bent aside,
And leaned her warm face, seen through loosened hair,
Above him, whispering, soft as is a prayer,
"Behold! the sword! I take the sword away!"
It curved and clashed where the strewn rushes lay;
Shone glassy, glittering like a watery beam
Of moonlight, in the moonlight. He did deem
She moved in sleep and dreamed perverse nor wist
The thing she did, until two hot lips kissed
His wondering eyes to knowledge of her thought.