“Woman, where is my father?”—­freezing through me,
      Lisp’d the mute Innocence with thunder-sound;
    “Woman, where is thy husband?”—­called unto me,
      In every look, word, whisper, busying round! 
    For thee, poor child, there is no father’s kiss. 
      He fondleth other children on his knee. 
    How thou wilt curse our momentary bliss,
      When Bastard on thy name shall branded be!

    10.

    Thy mother—­oh, a hell her heart concealeth,
      Lone-sitting, lone in social Nature’s All! 
    Thirsting for that glad fount thy love revealeth,
      While still thy look the glad fount turns to gall. 
    In every infant cry my soul is heark’ning,
      The haunting happiness for ever o’er,
    And all the bitterness of death is dark’ning
      The heavenly looks that smiled mine eyes before.

    11.

    Hell, if my sight those looks a moment misses—­
      Hell, when my sight upon those looks is turn’d—­
    The avenging furies madden in thy kisses,
      That slept in his what time my lips they burn’d. 
    Out from their graves his oaths spoke back in thunder! 
      The perjury stalk’d like murder in the sun—­
    For ever—­God!—­sense, reason, soul, sunk under—­
      The deed was done!

    12.

    Francis, O Francis! league on league, shall chase thee
      The shadows hurrying grimly on thy flight—­
    Still with their icy arms they shall embrace thee,
      And mutter thunder in thy dream’s delight! 
    Down from the soft stars, in their tranquil glory,
      Shall look thy dead child with a ghastly stare;
    That shape shall haunt thee in its cerements gory,
      And scourge thee back from heaven—­its home is there!

    13.

    Lifeless—­how lifeless!—­see, oh see, before me
      It lies cold—­stiff!—­O God!—­and with that blood
    I feel, as swoops the dizzy darkness o’er me,
      Mine own life mingled—­ebbing in the flood—­
    Hark, at the door they knock—­more loud within me—­
      More awful still—­its sound the dread heart gave! 
    Gladly I welcome the cold arms that win me—­
      Fire, quench thy tortures in the icy grave!

    14.

    Francis—­a God that pardons dwells in heaven—­
      Francis, the sinner—­yes—­she pardons thee—­
    So let my wrongs unto the earth be given: 
      Flame seize the wood!—­it burns—­it kindles—­see! 
    There—­there his letters cast—­behold are ashes—­
      His vows—­the conquering fire consumes them here: 
    His kisses—­see—­see all—­all are only ashes—­
      All, all—­the all that once on earth were dear!

    15.