Leigh Gordon Giltner (Ли Гордон Гилтнер)

Shylock

Cold craft and avarice look from out his eyes,
His face with evil passion marred and seamed,
Looks frowningly upon a Christian world.
Behind that hateful mask a demon lurks
To urge the narrow soul to darksome deeds
Of violence and greed, of hate and ruth.
His God, a God of wrath, a tyrant force
To mete to helpless souls eternal doom;
A Juggernaut, a hard unsentient power,--
But yet less potent than the yellow gold
Those crooked talons clutch, and for the which
The miser Shylock fain would sell his soul.

1. Severance
2. Under the Leaves
3. Euthumism
4. Hagar
5. To One Who Sleeps

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1730

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