Bright eyes, sweet lips, with many fevers fill The young blood, running wildly, as it must;
But lips and eyes beget a strange distrust.
Electric fingers send the sudden thrill Through senses unsubservient to the will;
The flames die down, and leave a dim disgust;
Unfragrant kisses turn to drouth and dust;
I kiss;
I feast; but I am hungry still.
O woman, woman, passionate but strong!
True to thy love as needle to the pole— True to the truth, and not alone to me— O mate and friend, elusive in the throng,
With thy clear brows, thy straight and upright soul,
Nameless—unknown—my hunger is for thee!
