Clouds Without Water

VIII You love me! trite and idle word to darken (With all its glow) the splendour of our sun! No soul of heaven or hell may hearken The unbearable device that we have done. Nor may Justine nor Borgia understand Nor Messalina nor Maria guess The infernal chorus swelling darkly grand That echoed us our everlasting ’ Yes! ’ Nor shall the Gods perceive to damn or praise The deed that shakes their essence into dust, Disrupts their dreams, divides their dreary days. Supreme, abominable, rides our lust Armed in the panoply of brazen youth And strength, since, if we are Hell’s, Hell’s wormis Truth. IX Weare still young enough to take delight In wickedness for wickedness’ sole sake. Eve did not fall because she knew aright The fruit an apple, but the snake a snake. Nor shall we sink among the foolish throng That seek an end, but rise among the few Who do the strong thing because they are strong And care not why they do, so that they do. Therefore we wear our dread iniquity Even as an aureole, therefore we attain Measureless heights of nameless ecstasy, Measureless depths of unimagined pain Mingled in one initiating kiss That those dissolve in the athanor of this.