Not even my pride shall suffer much; br Not even my pride at all, maybe, br If this ill-timed, intemperate clutch br Be loosed by you and not by me, br Will suffer; I have been so true br A vestal to that only pride br Wet wood cannot extinguish, nor br Sand, nor its embers scattered, for, br See all these years, it has not died. br br And if indeed, as I dare think, br You cannot push this patient flame, br By any breath your lungs could store, br Even for a moment to the floor br To crawl there, even for a moment crawl, br What can you mix for me to drink br That shall deflect me? What you do br Is either malice, crude defense br Of ego, or indifference: br I know these things as well as you; br You do not dazzle me at all— br br Some love, and some simplicity, br Might well have been the death of me—br br Edna St.