Her hair was, oh, so dense a blur Of darkness, midnight envied her; And stars grew dimmer in the skies To see the glory of her eyes; And all the summer rain of light That showered from the moon at night Fell o'er her features as the gloom Of twilight o'er a lily-bloom. The crimson fruitage of her lips Was ripe and lush with sweeter wine Than burgundy or muscadine Or vintage that the burgher sips In some old garden on the Rhine: And I to taste of it could well Believe my heart a crucible Of molten love -- and I could feel The drunken soul within me reel And rock and stagger till it fell. And do you wonder that I bowed Before her splendor as a cloud Of storm the golden-sandaled sun Had set his conquering foot upon? And did she will it, I could lie In writhing rapture down and die A death so full of precious pain I'd waken up to die again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE USES OF POETRY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS HAIL COLUMBIA by JOSEPH HOPKINSON TO CORINTH by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR ECHOES OF SPRING: 3 by MATHILDE BLIND PARADISE LOST by BERTON BRALEY TO - by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |