Explore "The Woman" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ With her fair face she made my heaven, / Beneath whose stars and moon and sun / I worshiped, praying, having striven, / For wealth through which she might be won.
/ And yet she had no soul: A woman / As fair and cruel as a god; / Who played with hearts as nothing human, / And tossed them by and on them trod.
/ She killed a soul; she did it nightly; / Luring it forth from peace and prayer, / To strangle it, and laughing lightly, / Cast it into the gutter there.
/ And yet, not for a purer vision / Would I exchange; or Paradise / Possess instead of Hell, my prison, / Where burns the passion of her eyes.