THE LESBIAN HELL 93
Cling to the white and bloody feet that hang,
And drink the purple of a God’s pure side;
With your wild hair assuage His deadliest pang,
And on His broken bosom still abide
His virginal white bride.
So, in the dawn of skies unseen above,
Your passion’s fiercest flakes shall catch new gold,
The sun of an immeasurable love
More beautiful shall touch the chaos cold
Of earth that is grown old.
Then, shameful sisterhood of earth’s disdain,
Your lips shall speak your hearts, and understand;
Your lovers shall assuage the amorous pain
With spiritual lips more keen and bland,
And ye shall take God’s hand.