THE COURT OF THE PROFANE. 
13 
The agony of extreme joy, 
 And horror of the infinite blind 
Passions that sear us and destroy, 
 Rebuilding for the deathless mind 
A deathless body, whose alloy 
 Is gold and fire, whose passions find 
The tears of their caress a dew, 
Fiery, to make creation new. 
 
This agony and bloody sweat, 
 This scarring torture of desire, 
Refine us, madden us, and set 
 The feast of unbegotten fire 
Before our mouths, that mingle yet 
 In this ;  the mighty-moulded lyre 
Of many stars still strikes above 
Chords of the mastery of love. 
 
This subtle fire, this secret flame, 
 Flashes between us as she goes 
Beyond the night, beyond the Name, 
 Back to her unsubstantial snows ; 
Cold, glittering, intense, the same 
 Now, yesterday, for aye !  she glows 
No woman of my mystic bed ; 
A star, far off, forgotten, dead. 
 
Only to me looks out for ever 
 From her cold eyes a fire like death ; 
Only to me her breasts can never 
 Lose the red brand that quickeneth ;