Chapter XV: Memoria Submersa

Can souls forget what bodies keep the while? Is this among their dark antinomies? The spiritual joy is volatile: The flesh is faithful to her memories. This living silk, this inarticulate Remembrance of the nerves enwinds us fast: Delicate cells, obscure and obstinate, Secrete the bitter essence of the Past. Ah! Was the fading web of rose and white All macerated by the kisses of old As rare French queens with perfume? (So, by night, They lived like lilies mid their cloth-of-gold.) Within the sense, howe'er the soul abjure, Like flavours and fumes these ancient things endure.