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  ― 52 ―

Woman

MOTHER of Christ…. and of Iscariot!
O, angel-demon holding in your hands
The fateful glass wherein the trembling sands
Of human being compass sage or sot:
Christs that adorn, Caligulas that blot
The Book of Time with blood and burning brands;
Nor sage nor sophist with their wizard wands
Has wrung your sway by tittle or by jot.

O, Vesta-Circe…. fountain-head of tears,
Thrice-heated furnace of enduring hate,
Portal of Life and gate of tenfold Death,
Upon your nod they hang with bated breath
Who serve with love, or at your bidding wait
To carry black vendetta down the years!

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