With scents of heat, dew-chilled and sweet, The new-cut hay smells by the bight; The ghost of some dead pansy bloom, The butterfly dreams in the gloom, Its pied wings folded tight. The world is lost in fantasy,-- Come dance with us in Faëry, Come dance with us to-night.
The roses of voluptuousness Wreathe her dark locks and hide her eyes; Her limbs are flower-like nakedness, Wherethrough the fragrant blood doth press, The blossom-blood of Paradise.
She stands with Lilith finger tips, With Lilith hands; and gathers up The wild wine of all life; and sips With Lilith-laughter-lightened lips The soul as from a crystal cup.
What though she cast the cup away! The empty bowl that flashed with wine! Her curled lips' kiss, that stained the clay, Her fingers' touch--shall not these stay, That made its nothingness divine?
Through one again shall live the glow, Immortalizing, of her touch; And through the other, sweet to know How life swept flame once 'neath the snow Of her mooned breasts,--and this is much!
Mark thou! a shadow crowned with fire of hell. Man holds her in his heart as night doth hold The moonlight memories of day's dead gold; Or as a winter-withered asphodel In its dead loveliness holds scents of old. And looking on her, lo, he thinks 'tis well.
Who would not follow her whose glory sits, Imperishably lovely on the air? Who, from the arms of Earth's desire, flits With eyes defiant and rebellions hair?-- Hers is the beauty that no man shall share.
He who hath seen, what shall it profit him? He who doth love, what shall his passion gain? When disappointment at her cup's bright brim Poisons the pleasure with the hemlock pain? Hers is the passion that no man shall drain.
How long, how long since Life hath touched her eyes, Making their night clairvoyant! And how long Since Love hath kissed her lips and made them wise, Binding her brow with prophecy and song! Hope clad her nakedness in lovely lies, Giving into her hands the right of wrong!
Lo! in her world she sets pale tents of thought, Unearthly bannered; and her dreams' wild bands Besiege the heavens like a twilight fraught With recollections of lost stars. She stands Radiant as Lilith given from God's hands.
The golden rose of patience at her throat Drops fragrant petals--as a pensive tune Drops its surrendered sweetness note by note;-- And from her hands the buds of hope are strewn, Moon-flowers, mothered of the barren moon.