Collected Works (Vol. II)

128 AHAB And like a serpent’s mouth is cold, And like a serpent’s mouth is keen, And like a serpent’s mouth is death. Lithe arms, wan with love’s mysteries, Creep round and close me in, as Thule Wraps Arctic oceans ultimate ; Some deathly swoon or sacrifice, This love—a red hypnotic jewel Worn in the forehead of a Fate ! And like a devil-fish is ice, And like a devil-fish is cruel, And like a devil-fish is hate. Beneath those kisses songs of sadness Sob, in the pulses of desire, Seeking some secret in the deep ; Low melodies of stolen gladness, The bitterness of death ; the lyre Broken to bid the viol weep : And like a Maenad’s chants are madness, And like a Maenad’s chants are fire, And like a Maenad’s chants are sleep. A house of pain is her bedchamber. Her skin electric clings to mine, Shakes for pure passion, moves and hisses $ Whose subtle perfumes half remember Old loves, and desolate divine Wailings among the wildernesses ; And like a Hathor’s skin is amber, And like a Hathor’s skin is wine, And like a Hathor’s skin is kisses. Gray steel self-kindled shine her eyes. They rede strange runes of time defiled, And ruined souls, and Satan’s kin. I see their veiled impurities, An harlot hidden in a child, Through all their love and laughter lean ; And like a witch’s eyes are wise, And like a witch’s eyes are wild, And like a witch’s eyes are Sin. She moves her breasts in Bacchanal Rhymes to that music manifold That pulses in the golden head, Seductive phrase perpetual, Terrible both to change or hold ; They move, but all their light is fled ; And like a dead girl's breasts are small, And like a dead girl’s breasts are cold, And like a dead girl’s breasts are dead. Forests and ancient haunts of sleep See dawn’s intolerable spark While yet fierce darkness lingereth. So I, their traveller, sunward creep, Hail Ra uprising in his bark, And feel the dawn-wind’s sombre breath. Strange loves rise up, and turn, and weep ! Our warm wet bodies may not mark How these spell Satan’s shibboleth And like a devil’s loves are deep, And like a devil’s loves are dark, And like a devil’s loves are death. THE DREAM. BEND down in dream the shadow-shape | Of tender breasts and bare ! Let the long locks of gold escape And cover me and fall and drape, A pall of whispering hair ! And let the starry eyes look through That mist of silken light, And lips drop forth their honey-dew And gentle sighs of sleep renew The scented winds of night ! As purple clusters of pure grapes Distil their dreamy wine Whose fragrance from warm fields escapes On shadowy hills and sunny capes In lands of jessamine ! So let thy figure faintly lined In pallid flame of sleep With love inspire the dreamer’s mind, Young love most delicate and kind, With love-how calm and deep ! Let hardly half a smile revive The thoughts of waking hours. How sad it is to be alive ! How well the happy dead must thrive In green Elysian bowers !