Some blood-stain filtered from the soul ; 
The light and shadow shed between 
My soul and God from Messaline. 
And even as a dark and hidden 
Furnace roars out in woods forbidden, 
A sullen tide of molten steel 
Runs from deep furrows in the wheel ; 
So from afar one central heat 
Sends the loud pulse to fever beat ; 
So from one crown and heart of fire 
Spring the vast phantoms of desire, 
Impossible and epicene, 
Familiar souls of Messaline. 
And as, when thunder broods afar 
Imperial destinies of war, 
Men see the haze and heat, and feel 
The sun’s rays like a shaft of steel, 
Seeing no sun ; even so the night 
Clouds that deep miracle from sight : 
Until this destiny be done 
Hangs the corona on the sun ; 
And I absorbed in those unclean 
Ghost-haunted veins of Messaline. 
 
 
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