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“ Six months and I sit still and hold In two cold palms her cold two feet ; Her hair, half grey, half ruined gold, Thrills me and burns me in kissing it. Love bites and stings me through to see Her keen face made of sunken bones, Her worn-out eyelids madden me, That were shot through with purple once.” SWINBURNE, “ The Leper,” Poems and Ballads, 1866.
…onds, Is the enormous secret I have learned : When self-denial’s furnace-flame has burned Through love, and all the agonizing bonds That hold the soul within its shell are turned To water weak ; Then may desires obtain the cypress crown they seek. 2 3
… was your wickedness my love to win. ( Baise la lourde crinière ! ) Your passion has destroyed my soul—what care If you desire me, and I hold you in My arms a little, and you love for lair My heavy hair ! It is a fatal web your fingers spin. ( Baise la lourde crinière ! ) Let our love end as other loves begin, Or, slay me at The Moment, unaware, Or, kiss in mutual death-pang, if you dare— Or one day I will strange you within My heavy hair !