On Whom the Moon Doth Shine
"O soft embalmer of ye still midnight,Allow me thee to adown,Of any sort thou fancieth;Each holdeth its own fancy, I say -Yet the pleasure we partake inWas caus'd by the fang'd grin,Save!, do I for him anger hold?Nay - I knew I was fey!"
"Had I what it taketh I would do;
I sense - I cannot sense,
I am - yet! I am not -
Once I kiss'd the image
Of the Seven Angels of Death..."
"Yet as thou so didst,On my lips a kiss landéd,And with the shadows blendédThe tendermost silken mourn;In which the light hidden is -Yon Hell's brazen doorsWrothfully it trieth to push."
"Then, lo! the Black Death,
Serpent-like 'twixt the breasts crept;
[together:]Hush'd with a gasp of life's breath,Together red tears they wept,And pass'd the procession of dancers dead -As in darkness were we lock'd in wed;I kiss'd the Seven Angels of Death."
"And Hell open'd its doors,Yet what was 'fore my eyesBut if not the brightest light."