viii 
PROLOGUE. 
Thou cam’st to obsess me first that Easter Eve, 
 When, from the contemplation of His pain, 
I turned to look into my own heart’s heave, 
 And saw the bloody nails made fast again. 
Thou cam’st to obsess me first that Easter Eve !   
 
The lustre of old jet was over thee, 
 And through thy body coursed the scented blood ; 
Thy flesh was full of amorous ecstasy : 
 Polished, and gloomier than some black full flood, 
The lustre of old jet was over thee !   
 
In thy great brazen blackness I am bathed ; 
 Through all thy veins, like curses, my blood runs ; 
In all thy flesh my naked bones are swathed, 
 My womb is pregnant with mad moons and suns. 
In thy great brazen blackness I am bathed !   
 
Imminent over me thy hatred hangs, 
 Thy slow blood trickles on my swollen sides, 
Thy curdling purple where those poison-fangs 
 Struck, slays desire and only death abides. 
Imminent over me thy hatred hangs !   
 
Thy jet smooth body clung to mine awhile, 
 Descending like the thunder-pregnant Night, 
Ominous, black, thy secret cruel smile 
 Lured me.  We lay like death ;  until the light 
Thy jet smooth body clung to mine awhile !