FLASHES OF MADNESS

I.

Thy hand with its lovely fingers

        And the heavy rings on them!

How my soul over them lingers

Each finger with a heavy gem,

Each ring like a small diadem!

When thou and I are alone,

One only wish my soul stings —

Holding thy hand in my own,

All night, while the night-bird sings,

To take off and replace thy rings.