The Soul of Osiris

viii PROLOGUE. Thou cam’st to obsess me first that Easter Eve, When, from the contemplation of His pain, I turned to look into my own heart’s heave, And saw the bloody nails made fast again. Thou cam’st to obsess me first that Easter Eve ! The lustre of old jet was over thee, And through thy body coursed the scented blood ; Thy flesh was full of amorous ecstasy : Polished, and gloomier than some black full flood, The lustre of old jet was over thee ! In thy great brazen blackness I am bathed ; Through all thy veins, like curses, my blood runs ; In all thy flesh my naked bones are swathed, My womb is pregnant with mad moons and suns. In thy great brazen blackness I am bathed ! Imminent over me thy hatred hangs, Thy slow blood trickles on my swollen sides, Thy curdling purple where those poison-fangs Struck, slays desire and only death abides. Imminent over me thy hatred hangs ! Thy jet smooth body clung to mine awhile, Descending like the thunder-pregnant Night, Ominous, black, thy secret cruel smile Lured me. We lay like death ; until the light Thy jet smooth body clung to mine awhile !