Tannhäuser

Tannhauser. Ah, but the waking ! As I sink to sleep Pillowed in nuptial arms —so fresh and cool— (Yet in their veins I know the fire that runs Racing and maddening from the crown of flame, The monolithic core of mystical Red fury that is called a woman's heart) Sinking, I say, from the supreme embrace. The Good-night kisses ; sinking into sleep — What dreams betoken the dread solitude ? Venus. What dreams ? Ah, dreamest not of me, my knight ? Of vast caresses that include all worlds ? Of transmutation into molten steel Fusing with my intolerable gold In the red crucible of alchemy. That is— of clay ? Tannhauser. I dream of no such thing. But of Thy likeness have I often seen The vast presentment—formless, palpable, Breathing. Not breathing as we use the word. When life and spirit mingle in one breath, Slay passion in one kiss—breathing, I say, Differently from Thee ! 42