Sonship in Cæsardom: yes, and for that
Have oped my soul-gates to the powers of hell,
And daily face spectres of horror, ghostly
Environments, the blue upbraiding lips
Of shadowy forms, that kiss in mockery,
And poison peace upon the paths of sleep.
To have borne in vain the murderer’s scaring plague,
To be by a common woman—killed: I doubt not,
Had but occasion served, she would have done it.
Have laughed to do it, laughed on when ’twas done.