Circe, the wine of Circe! Sorceress, I Have lived, but can your magic bid me die? I would die exquisitely, of the bliss Of one intense, intolerable kiss. Cease these caresses, brimming at my lips, While, fluttering, your magnetic finger-tips Race in a maze of circles up my arm. Silently, let your eyes begin their charm. You lean above me, and you strain me close, Pantingly close, against your breast: the rose Of your lips reddens to a rose of fire, That sinks and wavers, odorously, nigher. And your breast beats upon me like a sea Of warmth and perfume, ah! engulphing me Into the softness of its waves that cover My drowning senses amorously over. Your eyes intoxicate me: deeper yet Pour me oblivion! I shall soon forget Earth holds another woman: let me drain, Circe, the wine of Circe, once again! The rose of fire descends, the stars of fire Bend from the night of heaven to my desire, And your eyes burn on mine, and your lips burn Like living fire through all my veins that yearn, As, with one throb of rapt, surrendering breath, Life dies into the ecstacy of Death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHILD AND MOTHER by EUGENE FIELD THE CHARACTER OF HOLLAND by ANDREW MARVELL HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 5 by EZRA POUND LOUSE HUNTING by ISAAC ROSENBERG BRONZE TRUMPETS AND SEA WATER; ON TURNING LATIN VERSE INTO ENGLISH by ELINOR WYLIE |