Enigma
My bosom bounds with rapturous fate elate;
Youth in its spring stirs gently thro' my veins;
Consciously strong, I fear no future pains;
My sinless soul as yet knows naught of hate.
Unyielding, I can bear life's onerous weight,
Scorning the anger it for me retains;
But, ah! I dread the woman whom Fate ordains
To make me vile among all men, or great.
The awful query ever thrills my lips:
Shall the rich virgin treasures of my heart
Be given to some chaste creature, lily-frail;
Or shall my soul, plunged down in dark eclipse,
Be lured to ruin by the infernal art
Of some white Eve-like harlot, passion pale?
Youth in its spring stirs gently thro' my veins;
Consciously strong, I fear no future pains;
My sinless soul as yet knows naught of hate.
Unyielding, I can bear life's onerous weight,
Scorning the anger it for me retains;
But, ah! I dread the woman whom Fate ordains
To make me vile among all men, or great.
The awful query ever thrills my lips:
Shall the rich virgin treasures of my heart
Be given to some chaste creature, lily-frail;
Or shall my soul, plunged down in dark eclipse,
Be lured to ruin by the infernal art
Of some white Eve-like harlot, passion pale?
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