XII
How the yahoos will rage and rave about
Our sloughs! ’ Appalling double suicide !
" 'Osrible detiles '. In the world without
We never yet consented to abide.
What should we care, within this cave of bliss,
This ocean of content, wherein we dive
And play like dolphins, for the horrid hiss
Of blow-flies ? Nay, they never were alive!
O the sweet sleep that fastens on these brows!
O the enchauntment of this dreamy god,
My mystic sister, my mellific spouse,
That shepherds us with his hermetic rod
Into the flowery folds of love and sleep
Where we have strayed -— O never yetsodeep !
—— 128 —
XIII
Lola, dear Lola, how the stillness grows !
How drowsy is the world, that folds her wings
Over us, folding like a sunset rose
Her crimson raptures to the night of things !
How all the voices and the visions fail
As we pass through into the silent hall
Beyond the vapours and beyond the veil,
Beyond the Nothing as beyond the Ail!
Ah! then, our voice must also fail in this ;
Our symbols are but shadows in the sun;
Love’s self springs from the shadow of the kiss;
Our bliss! O, that was hardly half begun !
We fight the Fate as we have fought the foemen.
The poison takes us. — Xatoste vindiev.
— 129 —— 0