THE MOTHER
137
power of love caught in the arms of restraint slowly
smoulder into a burning desire :
Passion to feed
upon your shoulders bare ,
And pass
the dewy twilight of our sin
In the intolerable flames
of hair .
Give thee
my body as a fire to hold
O love, no words , no songs—your breast my bower !
In
“ Jezebel ” we find the same desire , but unfanned
by restraint , in whose place stands a woman's disdain .
He ,
the
prophet , goes to curse her—but
loves
her
instead :
For lo ! she saw me , and beheld
My trembling lips curled back to curse,
Laughed with strong scorn , whose music
knelled
The empire
of God's universe.
And on my haggard face upturned
She spat ! Ah God ! how my cheek burned
!
Then as a man betrayed , and doomed
Already , I arose and went ,
And wrestled with myself, consumed
With passion for that sacrament
Of shame .
From that day unto this
My cheek desires that hideous kiss.
Her hate , her scorn , her cruel blows ,
Fill my whole life , consume
my breath ;
Her
red
-
fanged
hatred
in
me glows
,
I
lust for her
,
and hell
,
and death
.
I
see that ghastly look
,
and yearn
Toward
the brands of her that burn
.?
Sleep shuns him
,
and his parched throat thirsts for
the blood
of
her veins
,
“
Aching with
all
the pangs
of
night
”;
his vision grows
more monstrous
,
a
horrible
1
Jezebel
:
and other Tragic Poems
,
vol
.
i,
p
.
133
.
2
lbid
.
vol
.
I,
pp
.
130-131
.