The World’s Tragedy

I0 THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. Let them suck the heavenly sleep ! Let me sink into the deep ! Till the morning pale and fresh Find my flesh against his flesh, And mine eyes within his eyes Watch the sun of glory rise ! All my breath is like new wine. I have flaxen hair and fine. From my shoulders to my feet Like the sunlight in the wheat ! If I laugh, the moon-curved pearls Match and master any a girl’s. If I weep, as joy may weep, One would say the fountain-steep Of Dione dropped its dew Through the vivid veil of blue. I am limber like a snake. I am soft, and slow to slake — For a curling, crimson fire Floods my lips and feeds desire. I am passionate and pale ; Virile — and most faery frail.