White Stains

86 THE BLOOD-LOTUS They grow in darkness, heat beguiles their sluggish kisses, in the wood They breathe no murmur that is good, and Satan in their blossom smiles. They murder with the old perfume that maddens all men’s blood ; we die Fresh from some corpse-clothed memory, some secret redolence of gloom, Some darkling murmurous song of lust quite strange to man and beast and bird, Silent in power, not overheard by any snake that eats the dust : No crimson-hooded viper knows, no silver-crested asp has guessed The strange soft secrets of my breast ; no leprous cobra shall disclose The many-seated, multiform, divine, essential joys that these Dank odours bring, that starry seas wash white in vain ; intense and warm