IV
Lola. The name is like the amorous call
Of some bright-bosomed bird in bowers of blue.
Tis like the great moon-crested waterfall
With hammering heart. 'Tis like the rain of dew
That quires to the angel stars. 'Tis like a bell
Rung by an holy anchoret to summon
Out of the labyrinths of heaven and hell
Some grave, majestic, and deep-breated woman
To bring her naked body shining, shining
With flowers of heaven or flames of Phlegethon
Into his hermit cell, her love entwining
Into his life with spells that murmur on
Black words! For one thing be you sure the same
My wine is as the music of your name!
Of some bright-bosomed bird in bowers of blue.
Tis like the great moon-crested waterfall
With hammering heart. 'Tis like the rain of dew
That quires to the angel stars. 'Tis like a bell
Rung by an holy anchoret to summon
Out of the labyrinths of heaven and hell
Some grave, majestic, and deep-breated woman
To bring her naked body shining, shining
With flowers of heaven or flames of Phlegethon
Into his hermit cell, her love entwining
Into his life with spells that murmur on
Black words! For one thing be you sure the same
My wine is as the music of your name!
— 22 —
