Roses and waxen oleanders,
Green grape bunches and the flushed peach,—
All beautiful things I taste, touch, see,
Knowing, loving, becoming each.
The ship went down, my mother swam:
I wedded and myself was wed;
Old Claudius died of emperor-bane:
Old Seneca too slowly bled.
The wild beast and the victim both,
The ravisher and the wincing bride;