XII. THE MASTER. E fumbles at your spirit HE As players at the keys Before they drop full music on ; Prepares your brittle substance By fainter hammers, further heard, Your breath has time to straighten, Your brain to bubble cool, Deals one imperial thunderbolt XIII. HEART, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light. When you have done, pray tell me, XIV. FATHER, I bring thee not myself, — That were the little load; I bring thee the imperial heart The heart I cherished in my own Yet strangest, heavier since it went, |