I sense - I cannot sense,
I am - yet! I am not -
Once I kiss'd the image
Of the Seven Angels of Death..."
"Then, lo! the Bleak Death,
Serpent-like 'twixt the breasts crept:
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."
"And Hell open'd its doors,
Yet what was 'fore my eyes
But if not the brightest light."
"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 in
Was caus'd by the fang'd grin,
Save!, do I for him anger hold?:
Nay - I knew I was fey!"
"Yet as thou so didst,
On my lips a kiss landd,
And with the shadows blendd
The tendermost silken mourn.;
In which the light hidden is -
Yon Hell's brazen doors
Wrothfully it trieth to push."
"Hush'd with a gasp of life's breath,
Together red tears we wept - in vain,
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."
"Yet what was 'fore my eyes
But if not the brightest light."
