The life-blood of a race that lies
Long dead. The jewels burning in your rings
Are an Egyptian woman's eyes.
Your beads are dead bones; even my breath
Breathes hot words that were others' pain.
Now these fair things are ours awhile, till death
Brings us to quiet sleep again.
Then we shall put our love aside
For lovers of a later birth,
And leave to them this body's fragrant pride,