1898 · CLOSE READING
Aceldama
Aceldama (1898), PDF p. 22
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XXI.
In every ecstasy exalt my heart ;
Let every trance make loose and light the wings
My soul must shake, ere her pure fabric springs
Clothed in the secret dream-delights of Art
Transcendent into air, the tomb of Things ;
Let every kiss
Melt on my lips to flame, fling back the gates of Dis !
XXII.
Give me a master ! Not some learned priest
Who by long toil and anguish has devised
A train of mysteries, but some despised
Young king of men, whose spirit is released
From all the weariness, whose lips are prized
By men not much—
Ah ! let them only once grow warm, my lips to touch.
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