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Hate

 My enemy came nigh, 
And I 
Stared fiercely in his face.
My lips went writhing back in a grimace, And stern I watched him with a narrow eye.
Then, as I turned away, my enemy, That bitter heart and savage, said to me: "Some day, when this is past, When all the arrows that we have are cast, We may ask one another why we hate, And fail to find a story to relate.
It may seem then to us a mystery That we should hate each other.
" Thus said he, And did not turn away, Waiting to hear what I might have to say, But I fled quickly, fearing had I stayed I might have kissed him as I would a maid.

by James Stephens
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