168 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
IN MANU DOMINÆ 
 
(A BLACK MASS) 
 
THE pale girl with the glittering eyes 
 
Leans forward ;  all her youth’s despair 
Stares from the fleshless face that lies 
 
’Mid the faint flax of her hair 
Fallen on her foolish ’broideries :   
 
She is too deathly fair. 
 
She stares—she stares—she reads this thought, 
 
What black joy her harsh cough affirms. 
Life leers—a jesting Juggernaut !   
 
Death beckons, beckons to the worms. 
And the smile upon his face is fraught 
 
With all its ghastly terms. 
 
Out of the glimmer and incense-reek 
 
Two clamorous colour-cries emerge. 
The frightful flush that stains her cheek 
 
Is the rouge of the White Scourge ;   
Her pallor is like a spectre sleek 
 
That dances to a dirge. 
 
Her slim transparent hand is wan 
 
As a moonstone, as blue ice !