And there was hot breath gasped in murderous words....
It was at dusk, when sweetly sang the birds....
Then there was silence—oh, how still and cold!
Without good-bye I went; for she had said—
“Young fool!”—that was a rapier-turn that told;
I could have killed her, for she knew I bled—
And smiled a little, as I turned away;
We have not known each other since that day.
I had expected, if my love went wrong,
The world in sympathy; I suffered pain