The fury of a creature when it drips Wet-fanged, and thirsty with the desert dust, The clench in battle on a sword that must Ravish the foe, the pang of finger tips- Joy of a captain in recovered ships, Joy, verity of a long-buried lust Delightsome to the flesh, is in the thrust Toward Absalom of the king's tarried lips. And, lo, beneath that awful benison, A thief's face glittered, sniffing at the gems Of the bent crown as they were cassia-stems; While the young years heard but the rolling on Of chariots, and a tumult, broke amain By rumour of an agèd monarch slain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FORBIDDEN FRUIT: 2 by EMILY DICKINSON IN THE SHADOWS: 20 by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) WINTER: MY SECRET by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THIRTY EIGHT. ADDRESSED TO MRS. H -- Y. by CHARLOTTE SMITH AEOLIAN HARP (1) by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |