Clouds Without Water

AIV Alas! the appointed term is sternly set Inviolable to this our colloquy. For though you be afar, my Lola, yet You have been with me, whispering to me. I bow my head to write, and on the nape O’ th’ neck I feel your lips. I raise my head To dream — your mouth achievesitsluscious rape — I fall back — you are on me — I am dead. Could it be better? For I surely know That you will follow me adown the deep When I lay pen and paper by, and go Into the ardent avenues of sleep : — There also we will drink the appeasing wine, Lola, my Lola, mystic maiden o’ mine! III The Hermit