JEZEBEL 
15 
Must root from out his bosom the fair flower 
Of passion !  Listen to thine own voice yet ; 
“ A rich man many flocks and herds did get 
And took the poor man’s lamb.”  Thou art the man ! 
Our love must lie beneath thy bitter ban ! 
Thou petty, envious God !  My king, be sure 
His brute force shall not to the end endure ; 
Some stronger soul than thine shall wrest his crown 
And thrust him from his own high heaven down 
To some obscure forgetful hell.  For me 
Forsake thy hopes in him !  We worship, we, 
Rather the dear delights we know and hold ; 
The first cool kiss, within the water cold 
That draws its music from some bubbling well, 
Looks long, looks deadly, looks desirable, 
The touch that fires, the next kiss, and the whole 
Body embracing, symbol of the soul, 
And all the perfect passion of an hour. 
Turn to me, pluck that amaranthine flower, 
And leave the doubtful blossoms of the sky ! 
You dare not kiss me !  dare not draw you nigh 
Lest I should lure you to remain !  nor speak 
Lest you should catch the blood within your cheek 
Mantling.  You dared enough—so long ago !— 
When to my blossom body clean as snow 
You pressed your bosom till desire was pain, 
And—then—that midnight—you did dare remain 
Though all my limbs were bloody with your mouth 
That tore their flesh to satiate its drouth, 
That was not thereby satisfied !  And now 
A pallid coward, with sly, skulking brow, 
You must leave Sodom for your spouse’s sake 
Coward and coward and coward !  who would take 
The best flower of my life and leave me so, 
Still loving you—Ah !  weak—and turn to go 
For fear of such a God !  O blind !  O fool ! 
To heed these strangers, and to be the tool 
Of their smooth lies and monstrous miracles ! 
O break this bondage and cast off their spells !