V
Your swollen neck is grown a swollen breast
Gushing with poisoned milk; your breath is caught
In quick sharp gasps; you get nor sleep rest,
The monster moving in you in his sport.
Surely a monster! some unnatural thing,
Some Minotaur of shame, no egg of pride
To hatch the miniature of love and spring
In your own image, subtly glorified.
White swan you were! not Zeus but Cerberus
Hath ravished you; you brood on harpy eggs—
Sweet sister! is the wine too sour for us?
We have drunk deep—nay! nay! but to the dregs!
And all their bitterness is braver brew
Than the dull syrup of the pious crew.
Gushing with poisoned milk; your breath is caught
In quick sharp gasps; you get nor sleep rest,
The monster moving in you in his sport.
Surely a monster! some unnatural thing,
Some Minotaur of shame, no egg of pride
To hatch the miniature of love and spring
In your own image, subtly glorified.
White swan you were! not Zeus but Cerberus
Hath ravished you; you brood on harpy eggs—
Sweet sister! is the wine too sour for us?
We have drunk deep—nay! nay! but to the dregs!
And all their bitterness is braver brew
Than the dull syrup of the pious crew.
