AH, love, I dreamed of thee last night,
Of strange lips kissing me,
With subtle penetrating pain—
A moon veil shrouded thee
(I shudder, when I think of this,
That a moon veil shrouded thee);
Thine eyes had in them all the light
Of the moonlight on the sea.
Thine eyes are beautiful and soft,
As the eyes of Seraphim,—
Ah, limpid liquid lustrous eyes,
Sad eyes half bright, half dim,
Half without light, half brighter bright,
Than the eyes of Seraphim.
That strange magnetic glance, that gleams
From those mystic eyes of vair,
That face so brilliantly pale,
And yet withal so fair,—
Love-pale and passion-pale, and yet,
So marvellously fair,—
That countenance corpse-like refined,
And subtle coloured hair.
Thy slender limbs that seem to burn
Thy vesture through with fire,
That serpentine electric form
Half quivering with desire,
Thy movements full of grace divine
As the music of the lyre—
(Alas! for whoso looks on thee
Feels new and strange desire,
The serpent winds around his heart,
His soul is turned to fire,
As though within his veins there ran
A current of Hell fire.)
I know, I know that long ago
The moon with silver feet
Crept to thy bed, close to thine head,
And kissed thy forehead, sweet,
Giving thy lips strange wine to drink,
And alien flesh to eat,
And apples culled from the Dead Sea,
Which are the serpent's meat,
Fruit from the tree by the Dead Sea
Whose fruit is death to eat.