Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO THE MUSE by BENJAMIN ROSENBAUM

First Line: TORMENT MY SOUL / AS YOU LIE HIDDEN
Last Line: AND ALL ELSE WILL WITHER AS MORNING GLORIES IN DRY HEAT.
TORMENT my soul
As you lie hidden
Amidst the sick perfume of lilacs
Underneath the moon.

Let your fingers linger
On the languorous clavichord
For I have stumbled on a yellowed letter.

I will touch the moist rim of your lips
And stifle all your unsaid words into my mouth.
You will be the mirror of me;
And all else will wither as morning glories in dry heat.



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