Unto the grave’s old womb forevermore

Hast thou betrayed the passion and the lust.

Fair as the moon of summer is thy face,

And mystical with cloudiness of hair.***

Only an eye, subornless by delight,

Shall find within thy phosphorescent gaze

Those caverns of corruption and despair,

Where the Worm toileth in the charnel night.


THE HOPE OF THE INFINITE