To My Husband

by Columbine

I know too well already this cold cheek
This gaze upon I know not what afar
How often you demeanor so did speak
Of distance, and how distant now you are!
Was it my rage, breaking like summer storm
That chased you to the weeping angel's breast?
Or tenderness, sea-deep and desert-warm
Whose fierceness did your modesty protest
Perhaps your heart, too full for church and state
Burst of its own, the blade but incident
Or was't the poisoned oath you begged to take
Made you forget you were but innocent?
If this deed was my own, hand me the knife
That I might know whence drained my own lost life.

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