Tannhauser.
Still.
I am not in any sense estranged.
I yearn for thee in the first hour of spring,
As in the dying days of autumn.
I
Would clasp thee,
as a child its mother's throat,
Drinking celestial wine from that dear mouth,
Or with goodwill
see poison in thy smile.
And die, still kissing
thee, and kissed again !
This, though I saw thee crawl upon the earth,
Howl at Her presence Whom thou wouldest ape,
Thy tale reversed.
I read that thunder now !
This, though I know
thee.
Aphrodite,
no !
Nor Anael,
nor Eva !
Rather thou
Lilith, the woman-serpent,
she who sucks
The breath of little children
in their sleep,
Strangles young maidens,
and presides upon
Sterile debauchery and unnatural loves.
Venus.
Lilith
!
Ah lover !
Thou hast known my name
!
Tannhauser.
So
; yet I love thee
!
Rended
is the veil !
Calling thee Ugliness,
I guessed aright.
Who saw, and see, all Beauty in thee still.
Only,
a beauty risen out of Hell
;
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