VII
More, I will visit you, forlorn who lie
Crying for lack of me; your very flesh
Shall tingle with the touch of me as I
Wrap you about with the ensorcelled mesh
Of my fine body of fire: oh! you shall feel
My kisses on your mouth like living coals,
And piercing like an arrow of barbèd steel
The arcane caress that shall unite our souls.
Till, when I see you next, I shall have doubt
Whether your pallor be from love distressed
Or from the exhaustion of the age-long bout
Of love you had of me upon your breast
Held hard all night, with mouths that never ceased
To engorge love's single sacramental feast.
Crying for lack of me; your very flesh
Shall tingle with the touch of me as I
Wrap you about with the ensorcelled mesh
Of my fine body of fire: oh! you shall feel
My kisses on your mouth like living coals,
And piercing like an arrow of barbèd steel
The arcane caress that shall unite our souls.
Till, when I see you next, I shall have doubt
Whether your pallor be from love distressed
Or from the exhaustion of the age-long bout
Of love you had of me upon your breast
Held hard all night, with mouths that never ceased
To engorge love's single sacramental feast.
— 41 —
