Explore "Ad Finem" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
On the white throat of the' useless passion / That scorched my soul with its burning breath / I clutched my fingers in murderous fashion, / And gathered them close in a grip of death; / For why should I fan, or feed with fuel, / A love that showed me but blank despair? / So my hold was firm, and my grasp was cruel -- / I meant to strangle it then and there!
I thought it was dead. But with no warning, / It rose from its grave last night, and came / And stood by my bed till the early morning, / And over and over it spoke your name. / Its throat was red where my hands had held it; / It burned my brow with its scorching breath; / And I said, the moment my eyes beheld it, / "A love like this can know no death."