THE DUEL.
OH many a duel the world has seen That was bitter with hate, that was red with gore, But I sing of a duel by far more cruel Than ever by poet was sung before. It was waged by night, yea by day and by night, With never a pause or halt or rest, And the curious spot where this battle was fought Was the throbbing heart in a woman's breast.
There met two rivals in deadly strife, And they fought for this woman so pale and proud. One was a man in the prime of life, And one was a corpse in a moldy shroud; One wrapped in a sheet from his head to his feet, The other one clothed in worldly fashion; But a rival to dread is a man who is dead, If he has been loved in life with passion.
The living lover he battled with sighs, He strove for the woman with words that burned, While stiff and stark lay the corpse in the dark, And silently yearned and yearned and yearned.