Page:The Poems of Oscar Wilde.pdf/165

 Stole into his, and warm lips timidly

Brushed his pale cheeks, and breathed their secret forth into a sigh.

Then turned he round his weary eyes and saw,

And ever nigher still their faces came,

And nigher ever did their young mouths draw

Until they seemed one perfect rose of flame,

And longing arms around her neck he cast,

And felt her throbbing bosom, and his breath came hot and fast,

And all his hoarded sweets were hers to kiss,

And all her maidenhood was his to slay,

And limb to limb in long and rapturous bliss

Their passion waxed and waned,—O why essay

To pipe again of love, too venturous reed!

Enough, enough that Erôs laughed upon that flowerless mead.

Too venturous poesy, O why essay

To pipe again of passion! fold thy wings

O'er daring Icarus and bid thy lay

Sleep hidden in the lyre's silent strings

Till thou hast found the old Castalian rill,

Or from the Lesbian waters plucked drowned Sappho's golden quill! 151