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Page 1 of 11898 · PDF PAGE 20
XVII. I am unworthy. In the House of Pain There are ten thousand shrines. Each one enfolds A lesser, inner, more divine, that holds A sin less palpable and less profane. The inmost is the home of God. He moulds Infinity, The great within the small, one stainless unity ! XVIII. I dare not to the greater sins aspire ; I might—so gross am I—take pleasure in These filthy holocausts, that burn to sin A damnéd incense in the hellish fire Of human lust—earth’s joys no heaven may win, Pain holds the prize In blood-stained hands; Love laughs, with angui…
1898 · PDF PAGE 26
… XXX. And O ! my music is so poor and thin ! I am poor Marsyas ; where shall I find A wise Olympas and a lover kind To teach my mouth to sing some secret sin, Faint, fierce, and horrible, to tune my mind, And on a reed Better beloved to bid me discourses at his need ? 2 6
1898 · PDF PAGE 28
EPILOGUE. My heavy hair upon my olive skin ( Baise la lourde crinière ! ) Frames with its ebony a face like sin. My heavy hair ! You touched my lips and told me I was fair ; It was your wickedness my love to win. ( Baise la lourde crinière ! ) Your passion has destroyed my soul—what care If you desire me, and I hold you in My arms a little, and you love for lair My heavy hair ! It is a fatal web your fingers spin. ( Baise la lourde crinière ! ) Let our love end as other loves begin, Or, slay me at The Moment, unaware, Or, kiss in mutual death-p…