My enemy came nigh, <br />And I <br />Stared fiercely in his face. <br />My lips went writhing back in a grimace, <br />And stern I watched him with a narrow eye. <br />Then, as I turned away, my enemy, <br />That bitter heart and savage, said to me: <br />'Some day, when this is past, <br />When all the arrows that we have are cast, <br />We may ask one another why we hate, <br />And fail to find a story to relate. <br />It may seem then to us a mystery <br />That we should hate each other.' <br /> <br />Thus said he, <br />And did not turn away, <br />Waiting to hear what I might have to say, <br />But I fled quickly, fearing had I stayed <br />I might have kissed him as I would a maid.<br /><br />James Brunton Stephens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hate-65/
