<h3 id="The_Tyrant">The Tyrant</h3>
<p>ONE comes with foot insistent to my door,<br/>
Calling my name;<br/>
Nor voice nor footstep have I heard before,<br/>
Yet clear the calling sounds and o’er and o’er—<br/>
It seems the sunlight burns along the floor<br/>
With paler flame!</p>
<p>“’Tis vain to call with morning on the wing,<br/>
With noon so near,<br/>
With Life a dancer in the masque of Spring<br/>
And Youth new wedded with a golden ring—<br/>
When falls the night and birds have ceased to sing<br/>
My heart may hear!</p>
<p>“’Tis vain to pause. Pass, friend, upon your way!<br/>
I may not heed;<br/>
Too swift the hours; too sweet, too brief the day:<br/>
Only one life, one spring, one perfect May—<br/>
I crush each moment, with its sweets to stay<br/>
Life’s joyous greed!</p>
<p>“Call not again! The wind is roaming by<br/>
Across the heath—<br/>
The Wind’s a tell-tale and will bear your sigh<br/>
To dim the smiling gladness of the sky<br/><!-- Page 65 -->
Or kill the spring’s first violets that lie<br/>
In purple sheath—</p>
<p>“If you must call, call low! My heart grows still,<br/>
Still as my breath,<br/>
Still as your smile, O Ancient One! A chill<br/>
Strikes through the sun upon the window-sill—<br/>
<i>I know you now</i>—I follow where you will,<br/>
O tyrant Death!”</p>
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