It’s no long while till your peace begins!
What if you tore your Book, poor lamb?
I’m bringin’ you one will eat your sins!
II
It’s a blood-red sun that’s sinkin’....
Ohooo, but the marshland’s drear!
Woman, for why will you be shrinkin’?
I’m tellin’ you there’s nought to fear.
What if the twilight’s gloomish
An’ th’ shadows creep an’ crawl?—