Would that the grave could rot
Like flesh the soul,
Gnaw through with worms and not
Leave it thus whole,
5
More than it was in earth
Beyond the grave,
Much more in death than birth
To conscience slave!
CHECK AND COUNTER-CHECK.
1
Vent all your coward's wrath
Upon me so!—
Yes, I have crossed your path
And will not go!
2
Storm at me hate, and name
Me all that's vile,
"Lust," "filth," "disease," and "shame,"
I only smile.