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…y on my mouth like a live coal ! This time thou hearest not my song ; thine ears Are stopped with worse than death ; And all this wasted breath Of mine—those songs of six most memorable years Of ecstasy and agony—may not attain To charm thy being into love again. . . .
… . . He lay close curled within my rose’s heart. There is no blame ; yet what avails all art ? See ! I reel back beneath the blow of her breath As she comes smiling to me : that disgust Changes her drunken lust Into a shriek of hate—half conscious still (Beneath the obsession of the will) Of all she was—before her death, her death ! So hell boils over in her, and she rages —It seems through countless ages— With all the vile abuse That had degraded Glasgow’s grimiest stews, With all the knowledge of despair Striking me cunningly, striking everyw…
… my love, my peace, my faith, my truth, The rosebud of my youth ! It was—it is not—it can never be. This would corrupt God’s body with a breath. I see Him sicken and swoon ; I see Him rot Through, though His tabernacle be Eternity. This makes a man catch hold of death Greedily like a harlot in the street That plucks by the arm some sot. Death shakes me off with a hoarse curse. Tied to this woman, his beneficence
…d their colour sickened into slate ; The eyes like common glass ; the hair’s gloss dull ; The muscles gone, all pendulous with fat ; The breath that was more sweet than Lebanon And all the flowers and honey and spice thereof Ripe for my soul’s kiss, eagerly to cull, Now like a corpse three weeks drowned, swollen by sun And water and vermin. There she sways and stares, And with the jaw dropped all awry—first swears, Then lurches ; then she slobbers unctuously : “ I am not old : I am quite beautiful ; How have I lost your love ? ” Pitiful ! Pitif…