1910 · CLOSE READING
The Winged Beetle
The Winged Beetle (1910), PDF p. 70
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60
ATHOR AND ASAR
ON the black night, beneath the winter moon,
I clothed me in the limbs of Clodia,
Swooning my soul out into her red throat,
So that the glimmer of our skins, the tune
Of our ripe rhythm, seeded the hideous play
Of death-worms crawling on a corpse, afloat
With life that takes its thirst
Only from things accurst.
Closer than Clodias clasp, Death had me down
To his black heart, and fed upon my breath,
So that we seemed a stillnesswhiter than
The stars, more silent than the stars, a crown
Of stars ! For in the icy kiss of death
I found that God that is denied to man
So long as love and thought
And life avail him aught.
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