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…memoried caress Stolen of the scented rose Stirs me and bids each racing pulse ache, ache !) Bend into an agony of art Whose cry is ever rapture, and whose tears For their own puritys undivided sake
…ds flash forth the holiest heaven That to the immortal God of Gods is given, And, tongue-tied, stammers forth my wife ! I am dumb with rapture of thy loveliness. All metres match and mingle ; all words tire ; All lights, all sounds, all perfumes, all gold stress Of the honey-palate, all soft strokes expire In abject agony of broken sense To hymn the emotion tense Of somewhat higher O ! how highest ! than all Their mystery : fall, O fall, Ye unavailing eagle-flights of song ! O wife ! these do thee wrong. Thou knowest how I was blind ; How…
…he dim glades Of the forest a ray Of sunlight shall flash and the dew die away ! Let there then be obscurity in this ! There is an after rapture in the kiss. The fire, flesh, perfume, music, that outpaced All time, fly off ; they are subtle : there abides A secret and most maiden taste ; Salt, as of the invisible tides Of the molten sea of gold Men may at times behold In the rayless scarab of the sinking sun ; And out of that is won Hardly, with labour and pain that are as pleasure, The first flower of the garden the stored treasure That lies a…
…eats And Shelley and Swinburne and Verlaine, Could I outsoar them, all their lyric feats, Excel their utterance vain With one convincing rapture, beat them hollow As an asss skin ; wert thou, Apollo, Mere slave to me, not Lord thy fieriest flight And stateliest shaft of light Thyself thyself surpassing : all were dull, And thou, O rose, sole, sacred, wonderful, Informing all, in all most beautiful, Circle and sphere, perfect in every part, High above hope of Art : Though, be it said ! thou art nowhere now, Save in the secret chamber of my he…
…s On its own self delight ; A circle, never a line ! Safe from all wind, Secure in its own pleasure-house confined, Sure lord of its own rapture, deaf and blind To aught but its own mastery of song
…loveliness All thine, O rose, O wrought of many a muse In Music, O thou strength of ecstasy Incarnate in a woman-form, create Of her own rapture, infinite, ultimate, Not to be seen, not grasped, not even imaginable, But known of one, by virtue of that spell Of thy sweet will toward him : thou, unknown, Untouched, grave mistress of the sunlight throne Of thine own nature ; known not even of me,
…he red rose. My spirit only knows This woman and no more ; who would know more ? I, I am concentrate In the unshakable state Of constant rapture. Who should pour His ravings in the air for winds to whirl,