His death-spasms our love-spasms, my wife;
His death-songs are the love-songs that you
sung!
Ah! Sweet, I love you as I see him stagger
On with hell’s worm a-nuzzling to his heart,
With your last letter, like a poisoned dagger,
Biting his blood, burning his bones apart.
Ah! Sweet, each kiss I drink from you is warm
With the dear life-blood of a man—a man!
The scent of murder lures me, like a charm
Tied by some subtlety Canidian.
Ay! as you suck my life out into bliss,
Its holier joy is in the deadlier thirst
That drank his life out into the abyss
Of torture endless, endless and accurst.
I know him little; liking what I know.
But you—you offer me his flesh and blood.
I taste it—never another vintage owe,
Nor bid me sup upon another food !
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