Handful of lavender / Lizette Woodworth Reese [electronic text]

THE DEATH POTION

IN ITALY, 15—.

ONE drop of this, and she will not know If she be foul or fair; One drop, and I may bind him again With a thread of my golden hair. (Hear, Lord Jesus!)

I would that those folk across the street, In old St. Simon's there, Would hush their noise: for they sing so sweet They make this rare drop seem less rare. (Hear, Lord Jesus!)

It is May; my plum-trees five Down in the court below Look like five little chorister boys Tiptoe to chant, so white they blow. (Hear, Lord Jesus 7)

And a butterfly like a violet Flits through the sun and lights on the sill Close to my hand. Are the bees about, Or is it the wind comes down the hill? (Hear, Lord Jesus!)

But what have I to do with the May, Or any other weather? Or with five white plum-trees? Hate and I, And I and Hell, be yoked together. (Hear, Lord Jesus!)

(One drop is sure to kill.) When she dies, They will put the cross on her breast, And get the golden candlesticks out For her head and feet, and call her blest. (Hear, Lord Jesus!)

But she is a thief! Do ye h ear me in Heaven? Her soul shall not come in To those white souls. She is pitch, not snow. Saint Simon, Saint Simon, is Theft not sin? (Hear, Lord Jesus!)

For he was mine, and I was his; (Hear, Lord Jesus!) Though we had shame, yet had we bliss. (Hear, Lord Jesus!)

I fell, but for love, love, love; And for love, love, love, I swear! I, for this man and my love, Would have wiped his feet with my hair! (Hear, Lord Jesus!)

This robber came; she lay in wait; She sprang upon him unaware;

He thinks to wed her with a ring To-morrow in St. Simon's there. (Hear, Lord Jesus!)

One drop? And she shall have it then In a sup of her lover's wine; So— old things will come back again, And I be his, and he be mine! (Hear, Lord Jesus!)