Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/46

 O like some soft insidious breath, Whose first invasion winneth quite To all its madness or its death The heart, resisting not the might And poison of its new delight,— E'en so is this that entereth In whispers, or through subtly wrought Enchantment snaring every thought; Yea, by the whole mysterious pore Of life,—this joy surpassing aught That heart of man hath known before.

And, though, indeed, a hapless end Of damning ruin were but sure, Yet could I none of me defend From such a sweet and perfect lure; But must, as long as they endure, To all these sorceries still lend My heart; believing how I stand Nigh some unearthly bliss that lies Dissembled all before my eyes;— Do I not see a radiant Hand Transmuting earth, and air, and skies?