Chapter LVI: The Soul to the Body

I know thou hast a secret of thine own Which I desire. But once I broke with thee And walked among the asphodel alone: Therefore thou wilt reserve this reverie, Like sumptuous flame closed up in alabaster. They half betray, these curious magian hands: Faint music of thy breast has throbbed the faster, If I have touched it with my charming-wands. And yet,--the wonder any woman knows Thou dost deny the proud Soul that has fed Among the lilies of the White Eros.-- Ere I go down among the witless Dead Give, give the secret, for my bliss or rue, Lest lack of that should craze my wisdom through.