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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393083" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Sting of Death</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393083" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">`Is Sin, then, fair?'<br>Nay, love, come now,<br>Put back the hair<br>From his sunny brow;<br>See, here, blood-red<br>Across his head<br>A brand is set,<br>The word -- `Regret.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393083" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">`Is Sin so fleet<br>That while he stays,<br>Our hands and feet<br>May go his ways?'<br>Nay, love, his breath<br>Clings round like death,<br>He slakes desire<br>With liquid fire.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393083" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">`Is Sin Death's sting?'<br>Ay, sure he is,<br>His golden wing<br>Darkens man's bliss;<br>And when Death comes,<br>Sin sits and hums<br>A chaunt of fears<br>Into man's ears.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=393083" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">`How slayeth Sin?'<br>First, God is hid,<br>And the heart within<br>By its own self chid;<br>Then the maddened brain<br>Is scourged by pain<br>To sin as before<br>And more and more,<br>For evermore.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Frederick+George+Scott">Frederick George Scott</a></strong></div>

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