Has Your Soul Sipped?

Has your soul sipped

Of the sweetness of all sweets?

Has it well supped

But yet hungers and sweats?

I have been witness

Of a strange sweetness,

All fancy surpassing

Past all supposing.

Passing the rays

Of the rubies of morning,

Or the soft rise

Of the moon; or the meaning

Known to the rose

Of her mystery and mourning.

Sweeter than nocturnes

Of the wild nightingale

Or than love's nectar

After life's gall.

Sweeter than odours

Of living leaves,

Sweeter than ardours

Of dying loves.

Sweeter than death

And dreams hereafter

To one in dearth

Or life and its laughter.

Or the proud wound

The victor wears

Or the last end

Of all wars.

Or the sweet murder

After long guard

Unto the martyr

Smiling at God;

To me was that smile,

Faint as a wan, worn myth,

Faint and exceeding small,

On a boy's murdered mouth.

Though from his throat

The life-tide leaps

There was no threat

On his lips.

But with the bitter blood

And the death-smell

All his life's sweetness bled

Into a smile.