The luminous pages of all story prove
High love hath ending in heroic woe;
Sharp-fanged and fell, dark death doth ever go
In waiting for the wandering feet of love.
And if that fate be shunned, love's footsteps move
Down the dull slope that leads to regions low
Where the thick pulse of ease and wont beats slow
As in some dusk and poppy-haunted grove.
Shall we accept, or shall we not defy,
Entrenched in our fast love, this augury?
Never shall I less than adore thee, Sweet!
No use, my queen, shall dim thy radiant crown.
And if, in envy, death shall strike me down,
Let his dart find me here, kissing thy feet!
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Comments about this poem (A Challenge by John Hay )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1861 - 10 September 1889)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
- Michael P. McParland
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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