Laurence Hope

Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheel,Less than the rust that never stained thy sword,

— Laurence Hope

Less than the weed that grows beside thy door

— Laurence Hope

Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar.Before you agonise them in farewell?

— Laurence Hope

I would have rather felt you round my throatCrushing out life, than waving me farewell!

— Laurence Hope