The Equinox (Volume I, Number X)

ROSA IGNOTA As food for thy body—thy body !—how shall I come to thee Who am at last awakened? Oh, my Rose, My Rose of my lost World, O Rose! Rose! Rose ! Pity me for that now I may not love thee, Pity me for the unquenchable desire, Never to be gratified, I bear toward thee! Pity me for my youth, the scattered dreams That are fallen from the shattered casket of my soul. Yet will I ravish thee even now, my queen ; I will fasten my fangs in thy breast, and drink thy blood, Thy leprous blood, to make me mad with hate, And frenzied with unsatisfied desire— I will make my bed with thee, thou harlot Rose Set ’twixt the limbs of the world, hate and desire. I will make me foul as thou that I may be A citizen of the world! I will quench the fire Immortal in me! I will be as thou, Prostitute unto Pan and unto Time.— I will live upon the dreams thou givest me In fee for sated passion! Yea! I will be A vanquisher of genius, a dream palled With life and time, knowing naught else there be But thou, who art slime, whose fingers through the veil Transform the world to dust, the sun to fire, Life unto lust, love to polluted dreams Of rose-buds ruined by slimy worms that crawl, Seeking desire, through the crapulous bed of love. 157