FLASHES OF MADNESS — I

I.

Thy hand with its lovely fingers
        And the heavy rings on them!
How my soul over them lingers
Each finger with a heavy gem,
Each ring like a small diadem!

When thou and I are alone,
One only wish my soul stings —
Holding thy hand in my own,
All night, while the night-bird sings,
To take off and replace thy rings.