III
I who have loved you—shall I love you now,
Your teeth dropt out, your fair flesh fallen away,
The Crown of Venus on you itching brow,
The coppery flush, the leprous scurf of grey?
The god that rots the líving flesh of man
Fills up your mouth—one ulcer—with his groans
And all our blessings choke and turn to ban
The beast that gnaws the marrow of our bones.
Caught in corrupt caresses of disease,
Shall we dispute us with his fervour, fain
To woo with sores your turbid arteries
And kiss black ulcers in your spotted brain?
We married close, my Lola, with a kiss:—
Now for the lifelong lover, Syphilis!
Your teeth dropt out, your fair flesh fallen away,
The Crown of Venus on you itching brow,
The coppery flush, the leprous scurf of grey?
The god that rots the líving flesh of man
Fills up your mouth—one ulcer—with his groans
And all our blessings choke and turn to ban
The beast that gnaws the marrow of our bones.
Caught in corrupt caresses of disease,
Shall we dispute us with his fervour, fain
To woo with sores your turbid arteries
And kiss black ulcers in your spotted brain?
We married close, my Lola, with a kiss:—
Now for the lifelong lover, Syphilis!
— 119 —
