"for let philosopher and doctor preach
of what they will and what they will not,—each
is but one link in an eternal chain
that none can slip nor break nor over-reach."
"crimson nor yellow roses nor
the savour of the mounting sea
are worth the perfume i adore
that clings to thee.
the languid-headed lilies tire,
the changeless waters weary me;
i ache with passionate desire
of thine and thee.
there are but these things in the world—
thy mouth of fire,
thy breasts, thy hands, thy hair upcurled
and my desire."
