I0 
THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. 
 
Let them suck the heavenly sleep !  
Let me sink into the deep ! 
Till the morning pale and fresh 
Find my flesh against his flesh, 
And mine eyes within his eyes 
Watch the sun of glory rise ! 
 
All my breath is like new wine. 
I have flaxen hair and fine. 
From my shoulders to my feet 
Like the sunlight in the wheat ! 
If I laugh, the moon-curved pearls 
Match and master any a girl’s. 
If I weep, as joy may weep, 
One would say the fountain-steep 
Of Dione dropped its dew 
Through the vivid veil of blue. 
 
I am limber like a snake. 
I am soft, and slow to slake — 
For a curling, crimson fire 
Floods my lips and feeds desire. 
I am passionate and pale ; 
Virile — and most faery frail.