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The Unpardonable Sin

I do not cry, beloved, neither curse.
   Silence and strength, these two at least are good.
   He gave me sun and stars and aught He could,
But not a woman’s love; for that is hers.
 
He sealed her heart from sage and questioner —
   Yea, with seven seals, as he has sealed the grave.
   And if she give it to a drunken slave,
The Day of Judgment shall not challenge her.
 
Only this much: if one, deserving well,
   Touching your thin young hands and making suit,
   Feel not himself a crawling thing, a brute,
Buried and bricked in a forgotten hell;
 
Prophet and poet be he over sod,
   Prince among angels in the highest place,
   God help me, I will smite him on the face,
Before the glory of the face of God.
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