Of this hot blood, might suckle flowers:
From spiritual flames that scorch me
Never, never were I free!
Then back, Death! Till I call thee
Hast come too soon!
... Thou silly worm, gnaw not
Yet thine intricate cocoon.
Of this hot blood, might suckle flowers:
From spiritual flames that scorch me
Never, never were I free!
Then back, Death! Till I call thee
Hast come too soon!
... Thou silly worm, gnaw not
Yet thine intricate cocoon.