Songs of the Spirit

Behold, I stand above His head With feet made white with whitest fire, Above His forehead, that is red As blood with His Desire. I knew that Voice was more than God, And echo trembled for its trust : Sleep’s feet, like Death’s, with fire are shod, And Love is likest Lust. So I returned and sought her breast, Our Lady of ten thousand Pains ; I drank her kisses, and possessed Her pale maternal veins. I said : Drain hard my sudden breath, Be cruel for the vampire thrust ! Let Sleep’s desire be sweet as Death, And Love be clean as Lust ! I died amid her kisses : so This last time I would not forget— So I attained The Life ; and know Her lips and God’s have met. 24