Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922.
DianaErnest Rhys (18591946)
T
And, making captive, still would fain pursue,
And still would keep, and still would drive away,—
So day by day
Hate, hunt, do murder, and yet love them too:
Ah, dear Diana!
More fatal far than that which slew of old;
Her spear is wit that she so brings to bear,
Then laughs to hear
When it has struck, and one more heart runs cold:
Ah, dear Diana!
Which when you see you straight must love, to death.
This new Diana has such sorceries,
Who loves her, dies—
And dying cries still with his latest breath—
Ah, dear Diana!