Xx
To drink one drop thereof is to be drunk.
The firm feet stagger, and the world spins round;
The fair speech stammers — nature's God hath sunk
Into some trivial place of the profound.
But he who is drunk thereon is wholly sane,
Being wholly mad; he moves with space-wide wings
Sees not a world — engulphed in the inane!
Nor needs a voice for speech, because he sings.
What then of them who are most drunk together
As you and I are, mystic maiden 0’ mine,
Beyond Dionysus and his tedious tether,
Beyond Kithairon and his topmost pine?
Why, even now I am drunk who scribble amiss
These lines, not thinking — save of your last kiss!
XI
So Lola! Lola! Lola! Lola! peals,
And Lola! Lola! Lola! echoes back,
Till Lola! Lola! Lola! Lola! reels
The world in a dance of woven white and black
Shimmering with clear gold greys as hell resounds
With Lola! Lola! Lola! and heaven responds
With Lola! Lola! Lola! Lola! — swounds
All light to clustered dazzling diamonds,
And Lola! Lola! Lola! Lola! rings
Ever and again on these inchaunted ears,
And Lola! Lola! Lola! Lola! swings
My soul across to those inchaunted spheres
Where Lola is God and priest and wafer and wine —
O Lola! Lola! mystic maiden o' mine!