Page:Vision of Giorgione, Bottomley, 1910.djvu/29

A CONCERT OF GIORGIONE A WOMAN'S VOICE

Who spills all kisses from such brimming lips?

O, petals creep in my bodice like tickling moths

That woke in a seam when old silk warmed to me.

GIORGIONE

They are past; they are a floating shadow again

That seems to show its own depths floating under.

PARIS

Had they a lute; or was it quite the water?

They might have taken me into their laps

And loved me because I am not a man:

But they are gone as though beneath full shawls

Perhaps to a hushed garden where only night

And each other's half caught breath will stir

Within their close neck-lawns while they listen.

GIORGIONE

When rarenesses like this open to me

By some supreme inexplicable hour

Women are the revealers and I know

Life is the apex of eternity:

God is the perfection of ourselves:

Divinity is the only immortality:

Evil is imperfection. Art is all,

Because it is the science of perfection.

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