Gargoyles

(Low too for cunning, like enough!) your lips, A scarlet splash of murder. From them drips This heart’s blood; you have fed your fill on me. I am exhaust, a pale, wan phantom floating Aimless in air, than which I am thinner. You I see, more brilliant, of that sanguine hue (If anything be true that I can see). Full fed; you smile, a smile obscenely gloating On the voluptuous wreck your lust hath wrought. See the loose languor of precipitate thought These versicles exhale! How rude the rime! There is no melody; the tune and time Are broken. Thirteen centuries ago They would have said, ‘‘ Alas! the youth! We know , This devil hath from him plucked the immortal soul,” 7 say: you have dulled my centres of control! v. If you were with me, I were blind to this: Ready to drain my arteries for your kiss, 42