Page:Collected poems of Flecker.djvu/47

 To slumber shall lull me, where no sorrow Can pierce the drifted overmantling haze: No sorrow, no despair, nor any love!

My soul is thine, husband, thy mad soul. Madness, swift foretaste of oblivion Shall wed us to delirious dim despair Till bone claim bone beneath the cypress tree. What pleasant dawn of madness! Oft I rend This fair hypocrisy of raiment. Down– There’s fairer guile within–down, frippery! Veil me not from my love. Dear arms outstretched, Am I not fair? These quick white limbs of mine Shall brand in thee their passionate symmetry, Till as the bee within the lily trembles Thyself, body and soul, shall move within me. Has sculptured Venus thighs of richer vein? Spread thyself round about me; let us wrench Self unto self. Why life is lovely still! Fair wings of madness, drift us far away To an unseen Empyrean, where no care Can frost the magic mirror of our loves. Thence we shall see the sorrowful world of men, Old castles fired, old mountains overturned, Old majesties conculcate in the dust, With short sad smiles for every thing destroyed. Why do red eyes draw nearer? Husband, wake! The palace is tired and falling! Not with love Thy body’s life, that throbs within me, burns 11