Modern Love XLII: I Am to Follow Her

 I am to follow her.
 There is much grace 
In woman when thus bent on martyrdom.
 
They think that dignity of soul may come, 
Perchance, with dignity of body.
 Base! 
But I was taken by that air of cold 
And statuesque sedateness, when she said 
'I'm going'; lit a taper, bowed her head, 
And went, as with the stride of Pallas bold.
 
Fleshly indifference horrible! The hands 
Of Time now signal: O, she's safe from me! 
Within those secret walls what do I see 
Where first she set the taper down she stands: 
Not Pallas: Hebe shamed! Thoughts black as death, 
Like a stirred pool in sunshine break.
 Her wrists 
I catch: she faltering, as she half resists, 
'You love.
 .
 .
 ? love.
 .
 .
 ? love.
 .
 .
 ?' all on an in-drawn breath.

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