Who cometh from the mountain as a tower
Stalwart and set against the fiery foes ?
Who,
breathing as a jasmine-laden bower?
Who, crowned and lissome as a living rose ?
Sharp thorns in thee are set ;
In me, in me beget
The dolorous despair of this desire.
Thy body sways and swings
Above the tide of things,
Laps
me as ocean, wraps me round as fire
!
Ye elemental sorceries of song,
Surge, strenuous and strong,
Seeking
dead
dreams,
the secret of the shrine ;
So that she drain my life and being up
As from a golden cup,
To minofle
in her blood, death's kiss incarnadine.
&
Who cometh
from the ocean
as a flower ?
Who blossometh above the barren sea ?
Thy lotus set beneath thee for a bower.
Thine eyes awakened, lightened, fallen on me ?
O Goddess, queen,
and wife !
O Lady of my life !
Who set thy stature as a wood to wave ?
Whose
love begat thy limbs ?
Whose wave-washed body swims
That nurtured thee, and found herself a grave
?
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