White Stains

THE BLOOD-LOTUS 93 With vine and myrtle and thy flower, my harlot-maiden, who for man Now first forsakest thy leman, thy Eve, my Lilith, in this bower Which we indwell, a deathless three, changeless and changing, as the pyre Of earthly love becomes a fire to heat us through eternity. I have forgotten Christ at last ; he may look back, grown amorous, And call across the gulf to us, and signal kisses through the vast ; We shall disdain, clasp vaster yet, and mock his newer pangs, and call With stars and voices musical, jeers his touched heart shall not forget. I would have pitied him. This flower spits blood upon him, so must I Cast ashes through the misty sky to mock his faded crown of power,