AND so you often speak of me When in his arms he holds the treasure That once was mine? What memory Stalks through your brain? What ghost of pleasure? But must you tell him every thrill And all my nakedness uncover? Ah, you are subtle, for he will Thus be vicariously the lover Of your red past. But can he hear The whole strange truth and never falter? And will you whisper in his ear Love's Black Mass and the secret Psalter? We summoned from the poppied dead Hecate and the dreams that she brews. Now all these sins are on his head, As on the scapegoat of the Hebrews. Though he win Lilith for his bride, He also wins the scarlet nightmare That plagued my soul, while free I ride Into the dawn upon my white mare. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A NICE CORRESPONDENT by FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON A SONG TO CELIA by CHARLES SEDLEY BISHOP BRUNO by ROBERT SOUTHEY FAREWELL TO THE FARM by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON I WOULD BE THE SUN by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS ON THE BIRTH OF A FRIEND'S ELDEST SON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |