Classic Poem

My enemy's sweet songs! —
I drew strength from their sweetness
And arrows for my wrongs,
And wings to urge my fleetness;
And when my night was day,
And I was mighty through him,
I harped my hate away,
But with his songs I slew him.

My enemy lay slain,
While I stood, strong and living;
The muffled drums in pain
Beat o'er his grave forgiving;
But I who had foreseen
The dead man in the clay there
Knew death no closing scene,
And harped my grief away there.

I chose the sweetest tune
He left to live forever,
And harped the winter noon
Into a summer fever;
I sang of Earth, the gateway
To Heav'n, and gave requick'ning
To lethal clay till straightway
The grave-flowers ceased their sick'ning.

I harped his Life-in-death,
Until, my death-song over,
His kindred in one breath
Cried, — Lo! his only lover
Who loved too well the splendour
Of men, to bear their wrongs;
And slew the black offender,
But saved his sweetest songs.