XLVIII
Our arms together twined twin marbles are:
Yours, brown, Numidian, warm, turquoise-veined,
Mine, pale Pentelican, rose, faintly stained—
Two tinted figurines of Tanagra.
In mine I see the north which snowfields mar,
In yours I see the languors unrestrained
Of Asiatic noons—Afric regained—
Life lived beneath a sun oracular.
Be to me, Sweet, a city of the south,
The garden of its richness be your mouth;
In kisses pour Egyptian lavender,
The strange, sleep-swaying scents of Lydia,
Pour on my arms to dull their sharp whiteness
Rose-liquor from the mountains of Cyprus!