"I have sought you," I said; "I have
found you," I said, "in the pitch of your
intimate midnight lair."
He drew back with a sob like the swish of a
stick thro' the smarting air.
"I have moved like Death on deliberate
feet thro' a thousand towns and a hundred lands.
Thinking you found, I have squeezed men's
throats with pulsing, twitching, inquisitive hands.
"But the fire that waned in their blood-starred
eyes was not the flame of the fire I sought,
And I went my way with the sword in my
heart and the sword in my hand of passion
and thought.
"My blood spurted over the boulders of far
intolerant mountains of iron and ice,
But never in crevice or cave or chasm I found
the flesh of my sacrifice.
"I burned with the wrath of a wind from hell
thro' molten deserts panting and pent;
But ever my foeman fled me afar, the sinister
goal of my intent.
"I have sought you," I said, "I have found
you," I said; "we shall die together, for
I am you."
The foam and fever oozed out of my forehead,
with a dew like blood, with a blood like dew.
He wailed like a child that recoils from a
shadow that moves with menace over his bed;
But I pierced my heart with the sword in my
hand, and his body at last lay stretched
and dead.