Clouds Without Water

VI You grind your tiny shoes into my face ; You roll upon the furs before the fire, Smiting and cursing in the devil’s race Whose goal and prize is Unassuaged Desire. You rub your naked hody against mine: You madden me by blows and bites and kisses ; You make me drunken with your stormy wine ; We swoon, we roll into unguessed abysses Of torture and of bliss ; we wake and yearn, Doing violence on ourselves — anon weare slain, Slain and reborn again to ache and burn : Aeon on aeon thunders through our brain. -—~ At last you see, my maiden? Kiss me! Kiss ! There is no end — happy or not — to this ! ~d Io | | VII There Is a respite — we must part anon. Short are the hours of sweetness : it is well. Could such a bout of murder carry on We should drink poison and awake in hell ; Or being but mortal, or nearly mortal, yield Exhausted spirit to the clamant flesh: The book of common love should be unsealed, And we be caught within the common mesh That catches common folk. O God ! bite hard! Smite down rebellious flesh with hideous pain ! Bite hard ! Smite hard! By bruises scarred and marred Love this exultant face! Again! Again! O Lola ! Lola! Lola! Kiss me, Kiss! Nay — nay ! Kiss not! I cannot bear the bliss.