With wine for deep forgetfulness, He dips again within the bowl, And seeks a dream of loveliness Down pathways with his poisoned soul. His blood will crave a rendezvous, As absinthe creeps through every vein. Desiring Lethe, how can he rue Her dark nepenthe for his pain? His fantasy is wondrous trailed With crystal gardens, mile on mile; By emerald seas, whence Lethe sailed To greet him with her treacherous smile. Past isles of grotesque imagery, Lit by the moon's weird mandarin, Attuned to lecherous melody: Food of the Serpent, venom-green. The absinthe trails its false delight. The hour is gone -- he lived it all. Now doomed and shattered is the night, As life becomes a draught of gall. No ecstasy is consummate Where Lethe flaunts her naked snare. The dreamer finds that only Hate Strangles him with her wine-soaked hair. Absinthe is but the coward's goal -- And yet, one craves the incorporeal Desire, with its phantomed bowl ... Oh, wormwood, how ethereal! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 13. TO MR. H. LAWES, ON HIS AIRS by JOHN MILTON THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. THE GASTRIC MUSE by JOHN ARMSTRONG LILIA'S TRESS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TREES IN AUTUMN by ANNE MILLAY BREMER GOOD COUNSEL TO A YOUNG MAID by THOMAS CAREW SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 66 by BLISS CARMAN THEALMA AND CLEARCHUS by JOHN CHALKHILL AN INVITATION TO CELEBRATE THE BIRTHDAY OF THE POET MOORE by JOHN CHALK CLARIS |