Poems . my teeth in their flesh. Could they feel but the pain,0 my soul, how these teeth should go through them ! Fool, fool, what good gift dost thou biing ?For thee have I sweetened with cassia my chambers. A gift for a king,Azariah laughed loud ; and tost to her the ap])le. This comes from the TreeOf whose fruit whoso tastes lives forever. I care not. I give it to , witch ! t is worth more than the shekels of gold thou hast charmed from my it. Eat, and thank me for the meal, witch ! for Eve, thy sly mother, fared worse,0 thou white-toothed taster of apples? Thouliest, foo
Poems . my teeth in their flesh. Could they feel but the pain,0 my soul, how these teeth should go through them ! Fool, fool, what good gift dost thou biing ?For thee have I sweetened with cassia my chambers. A gift for a king,Azariah laughed loud ; and tost to her the ap])le. This comes from the TreeOf whose fruit whoso tastes lives forever. I care not. I give it to , witch ! t is worth more than the shekels of gold thou hast charmed from my it. Eat, and thank me for the meal, witch ! for Eve, thy sly mother, fared worse,0 thou white-toothed taster of apples? Thouliest, fool! Taste, then, and the truth of the fruits in the eating. T is thou art the serpent, not the strong man laughed loud as he pushed at her lip the life-apple. She caughtAnd held it away from hei, musing ; and muttered ... Go to ! It is , why dost thou laugh ? And he answered, Because, witch, it tickles my brainIntensely to think that all we, that be Something while yet we And, kneeling there, cried, Let the king live forever ! — Page 155. THE APPLE OF LIFE. 155 We, the princes of people, — ay, even the Kings self, — shall die in our thou, that art Nothing, shalt sit on our graves, with our grandsons, and he said, and laughed loader. But when, in the gray of the dawn, he was the wan light waxed large in the window, as she on her bed sat alone,With thi fruit that, alluring her lip, in her hand lay untasted, perusing,Perplext, the gay gift of the Prince, the dark woman thereat fell a musing,And she What is Life without Honor ? And what can the life that I liveGive to me, I shall care to continue, not caring for aught it can give ?I, despising the fools that despise me, — a plaything not pleasing myself, —Whose life, for the pelf that maintnins it, must sell what is paid not by pelf!I ?. . the man called me Nothing. He said well. The great in their glory must why should I linger, whose life leadet
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