Read them? Strangle that sick cry?
Christ God, no!
Shut the box. Lock the lid.
You'll be safer--so.
Could you read one crooked word
Scrawled so long ago,
Love would rise before your face
And blind you, like a blow.
_Close it! Quickly! For I caught,
In a childish hand,
Something that she never thought
I should understand._
So I crouch. And shall our God
Prove Him baser yet,
He who filled her eyes with light
Quite renounce His debt,
Give her worlds to love, and then--
Ere the sun be set,
Strike her down and coffin all?
Christ, shall _He_ forget?
_Close it! Quickly! For I caught,
In a childish hand,
Something that she never thought
I should understand._