Classic Poem

And he said:
“How, my darling, can I slay you,
And how can I harm the least hair of your head?”

And again he said:
“I have no comfort but you, and no dream but you.”

So the first hour passed …

Then he raised his slack hand again, and murmured:
“I am as one in a trance: I cannot do this thing.”

But he knew the time had come for him …

And now he drew up all the passion of his heart,
A terrible wild passion,
And willed to slay her through clenched teeth:
He willed that she must go down in death:
He willed to put her from him.

But his heart whispered:
“Hold! hold! this woman is your Mother!”

And so the second hour passed.