FOAM AND FANGS

O NYMPH with the nicest of noses;

And finest and fairest of forms;

Lips ruddy and ripe as the roses

That sway and that surge in the storms;

O buoyant and blooming Bacchante,

Of fairer than feminine face,

Rush, raging as demon of Dante—

To this, my embrace!

The foam and the fangs and the flowers,

The raving and ravenous rage

Of a poet as pinion'd in powers

As condor confined in a cage!

My heart in a haystack I've hidden,

As loving and longing I lie,

Kiss open thine eyelids unbidden—

I gaze and I die!

I've wander'd the wild waste of slaughter,

I've sniffed up the sepulchre's scent,

I've doated on devilry's daughter,

And murmur'd much more than I meant;

I've paused at Penelope's portal,

So strange are the sights that I've seen,

And mighty's the mind of the mortal

Who knows what I mean.

Walter Parke.