And the cup of the heart its mark!
And the cup of the heart is dust,
And the wine of the heart is spilled.
And the barb flings whimpering back to Lust
With “Master, see—I have killed!”
It was thus and thus that you were begot!
I am Death’s bright arrow! Forgive me not!
The ribbon of Fate unreels
In the road of the days and nights;
There are flute-voiced airs for the dancing heels,