Among the Rice Fields

She was fair as a Passion-flower,(But little of love he knew.)Her lucent eyes were like amber wine,And her eyelids stained with blue.

He called them the Gates of Fair Desire,And the Lakes where Beauty lay,But I looked into them once, and sawThe eyes of Beasts of Prey.

He praised her teeth, that were small and whiteAs lilies upon his lawn,While I remembered a tiger's fangsThat met in a speckled fawn.

She had her way; a lover the more,And I had a friend the less.For long there was nothing to do but waitAnd suffer his happiness.

But now I shall choose the sharpest KrissAnd nestle it in her breast,For dead, he is drifting down to sea,And his own hand wrought his rest.