But Adrian, who was young and all athirst <br />For human joy, and turbulent and strong, <br />Grew discontent with her despairs and curst, <br />Nor spared he her the jibings of his tongue. <br />He mocked at her vain virtue and the words <br />She used to comfort him when sometimes she <br />With weak heart battling, like a troubled bird's <br />Which sees the nets, would ease his misery <br />With telling her own pain and making show <br />Of her soul's hunger to his hungry soul. <br />It only angered him, this prate of woe, <br />And back he thrust on her her beggar's dole <br />Of idle sighs. And ``If I have not bread, <br />For pity let me be and starve,'' he said.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/natalia-s-resurrection-sonnet-iv/
