Revenge
Reading edition
Is Hatred such a restless thing That all my sleep is broke? By night I seem to hear the ring Of steel behind the smoke, At dawn the chilling fog-bays wreathe His image in the west, Ah, Mary! if I could but sheathe My dagger in his breast. His name I hear in every shout, In every wind that sighs, I see his doubles walk about Wearing his bloodshot eyes; I grip my blade ten times a day Seeing strange men who bear In guiltless eyes the guilty grey His green eyes used to wear. I would not send a bit of lead, Nor hang him on a rope; For I must feel that he is dead, O I must see him grope With twitching hands upon the brink While his life-blood doth start! I’d give my soul to sink ... sink This dagger in his heart.