By Word Of Mouth (poem)


Not though you die to-night, O Sweet, and wail,
A spectre at my door,
Shall mortal Fear make Love immortal fail,
I shall but love you more,
Who, from Death's House returning, give me still
One moment's comfort in my matchless ill.


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Return to the Rudyard Kipling Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Cain And Abel

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