| Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922. | | | | Hate | | By James Stephens (1882–1950) |
| | | MY enemy came nigh, | |
| And I | |
| Stared fiercely in his face. | |
| My lips went writhing back in a grimace, | |
| And stern I watch’d him with a narrow eye. | 5 |
| Then, as I turn’d away, my enemy, | |
| That bitter heart and savage, said to me: | |
| ‘Some day, when this is past, | |
| When all the arrows that we have are cast, | |
| We may ask one another why we hate, | 10 |
| And fail to find a story to relate. | |
| It may seem to us then a mystery | |
That we could hate each other.’
Thus said he, | |
| And did not turn away, | |
| Waiting to hear what I might have to say, | 15 |
| But I fled quickly, fearing if I stay’d | |
| I might have kiss’d him as I would a maid. | | | | |
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