What smouldering senses in death's sick
Or seizure of malign
Can rob this body of honour, or
This soul of wedding-raiment worn to-day?
For lo! even now my lady's lips did
With these my lips such consonant
As laurelled Orpheus longed for when he
The half-drawn hungering face with that last lay.
I was a child beneath her touch,—a
When breast to breast we clung, even I and she,—A spirit when her spirit looked through me,—A god when all our life-breath met to
Our life-blood, till love's emulous ardours ran,
Fire within fire, desire in deity.
