Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/134

"And yet some bitter ones, whom coming night
Hath wholly entered, grudge man this small right
  Of joy, and seek to fill
His rushing moment with the monstrous hiss
Of shapeless terrors, poisoning the bliss
Brief nestled in his bosom—merely till
  Forced out by its death chill!

"What voice is this the envious wilderness
Hath sent among us foully to distress
  And haunt our lives with fear?
What vulture, shrieking on the scent of death—
What yelping jackal—what insidious breath
Of pestilence hath ventured to draw near,
  And enter even here?

"No kindred flesh of fair humanity
Yon fiend hath, seeking through lives doomed to die
  Death's foretaste to infuse:
His body is but raised up from the slain
Unburied thousands that long years have lain
About the desert: Death himself doth choose
  His pale disguise to use.