Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/84

 I charge thee keep thy lips from hers or his, Sweetest, till theirs be sweeter than my kiss. Lest I too lure, a swallow for a dove, Erotion or Erinna to my love. I would my love could kill thee; I am satiated With seeing thee live, and fain would have thee dead. I would earth had thy body as fruit to eat, And no mouth but some serpent's found thee sweet. I would find grievous ways to have thee slain, Intense device, and superflux of pain; Vex thee with amorous agonies, and shake Life at thy lips, and leave it there to ache; Strain out thy soul with pangs too soft to kill, Intolerable interludes, and infinite ill; Relapse and reluctation of the breath, Dumb tunes and shuddering semitones of death. I am weary of all thy words and soft strange ways, Of all love's fiery nights and all his days, And all the broken kisses salt as brine That shuddering lips make moist with waterish wine, And eyes the bluer for all those hidden hours That pleasure fills with tears and feeds from flowers, Fierce at the heart with fire that half comes through, But all the flowerlike white stained round with blue; The fervent underlid, and that above Lifted with laughter or abashed with love; Thine amorous girdle, full of thee and fair, And leavings of the lilies in thine hair.