Poetica Erotica

And slip half-conscious to the old embrace. And now you will not let me see your face Or hear your voice or touch you. Ah! the hour! He moves. Come back, come back, my life’s one flower! Come back. One kiss before you leave me. So! Stop—turn—one little kiss before you go; Tt is my right—you must. Oh no! Oh no! A SAINT’S DAMNATION (By Aleister Crowley. From The Soul of Osiris. 1901) YOU buy my spirit with those shameless eyes That burn my soul, you loose the torrent stream Of my desire, you make my lips your prize, And on them burns the whole life’s hope: you deem You buy a heart; but I am well aware How my damnation dwells in that supreme Passion to feed upon your shoulders bare, And pass the dewy twilight of our sin In the intolerable flames of hair That clothe my body from your head; you win The devil’s bargain; I am yours to kill, Yours, for one kiss; my spirit for your skin! O bitter love, consuming all my will! O love destroying, that hast drained my life Of all those fountains of dear blood that fill My heartt O woman, would I call you wife? Would I content you with one touch divine To flood your spirit with the clinging strife Of perfect passionate joy, the joy of wine, The drunkenness of extreme pleasure, filled From sin’s amazing cup. Oh, mine, mine, mine, Mine, if your kisses maddened me or killed, Mine, at the price of my damnation deep, Mine, if you will, as once your glances willed! ‘Take me, or break me, slay or soothe to sleep, If only yours one hour, one perfect hour, Remembrance and despair and hope to steep. [293]