Whence the calm marble, wan as memory,

Slopes to the wine-brimmed bath of cold dark fire

Perfumed with old regret and dead desire.

[Pg 13]

There the soul, slumbering in the purple waves

Of indolence, dreams of the phantom years,

Dreams of the wild sweet flower of red young lips

Meeting and murmuring in the dark eclipse

Of joy, where pain still craves

One tear of love to mingle with their tears,

One passionate welcome ere the wild farewell,

One flash of heaven across the fires of hell.

*    *    *    *

Queen of my dreams, queen of my pitiless dreams,

Dim idol, moulded of the wild white rose,

Coiled like a panther in that silken gloom

Of scented cushions, where the rich hushed room

Breaks into soft warm gleams,

As from her slumbrous clouds Queen Venus glows,

Slowly thine arms up-lift to me, thine eyes

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