Collected Works (Vol. I)

THE GATE OF THE SANCTUARY 185 THE LESBIAN HELL. THE unutterable void of Ifell is stirred By gusts of sad wind moaning ; the inane Quivers with melancholy sounds unheard, Unpastured woes, and unimagined pain, And kisses flung in vain. Pale women fleet around, whose infinite Long sorrow and desire have torn their wombs, Whose empty fruitlessness assails the night With hollow repercussion, like dim tombs Wherein some vampire glooms. Pale women sister breast ; Lone sisterhood of voiceless melancholy That wanders in this Hell, desiring rest From that desire that dwells for ever free, Monstrous, a storm, a sea. sickening for some In that desire their hands are strained and wrung ; In that most infinite passion beats the blood, And bursting chants of amorous agony flung To the void Hell, are lost, not nnderstood, Unheard by evil or good. Their sighs attract the unsubstantial shapes Of other women, and their kisses burn Cold on the lips whose purple blood escapes, A thin chill stream; they feel not nor discern, Nor love’s low laugh return. They kiss the spiritual dead, they pass Like mists uprisen from the frosty moon, Like shadows fliceting in a seer’s glass, Beckoning, yearning, amorous of the noon When earth dreams on in swoon. They are so sick for sorrow, that my eyes Are moist because their passion was so fair, So pure and comely that no sacrifice Seems to waft up a sweeter savour there, Where God’s grave ear takes prayer. O desecrated lovers ! O divine Passionate martyrs, Virgin unto death! O kissing daughters of the unfed brine! O sisters of the west wind’s pitiful breath, There is One that pitieth ! One far above the heavens crowned alone, Immitigable, intangible, a maid, Incomprehensible, divine, unknown, Who loves your leve, and to high God hath said : ‘¢To me these sungs are made !”’ So in a little from the silent Hell Rises a spectre, disanvinted now, Who bears a cup of poison terrible, The seal of God upon his blasted brow, To whom Lis angels bow, Rise, Phantom disanointed, and proclaim Thine own destruction, and the death Of those material essences that ame A little moment for a little breath, The love that perisheth ! sleepy Kise, sisters, who have ignorantly striven On pale pure limbs to pasture your desire, Who should have fixed your souls on highest Ileaven, And satiated your longings in that fire, And struck that mightier lyre ! Let the ripe kisses of your thirsty throats And beating blossoms of your breath, and flowers Of swart himitable hair that floats Vague and caressing, and the amorous powers Of your unceasing hours, The rich hot fragrance of your dewy skins, The eyes that yearn, the breasts that bleed, the thighs That cling and cluster to these infinite sins, Forget the earthlier pleasures of the prize, And raise diviner sighs ;