With wine for deep forgetfulness, He dips again within the bowl, And seeks a dream of loveliness Down pathways with his poisoned soul. His blood will crave a rendezvous, As absinthe creeps through every vein. Desiring Lethe, how can he rue Her dark nepenthe for his pain? His fantasy is wondrous trailed With crystal gardens, mile on mile; By emerald seas, whence Lethe sailed To greet him with her treacherous smile. Past isles of grotesque imagery, Lit by the moon's weird mandarin, Attuned to lecherous melody: Food of the Serpent, venom-green. The absinthe trails its false delight. The hour is gone -- he lived it all. Now doomed and shattered is the night, As life becomes a draught of gall. No ecstasy is consummate Where Lethe flaunts her naked snare. The dreamer finds that only Hate Strangles him with her wine-soaked hair. Absinthe is but the coward's goal -- And yet, one craves the incorporeal Desire, with its phantomed bowl ... Oh, wormwood, how ethereal! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ODE IN TIME OF HESITATION by WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY PANEGYRIC by ABU BAKR MUHUMMAD TO A MAID OF THIRTEEN by CHRISTOPHER BANNISTER TO HIS DEAR FRIEND THOMAS RANDOLPH, ON HIS COMEDY 'THE JEALOUS LOVERS' by RICHARD BENEFIELD A FABLE FOR POETS by BERTON BRALEY MESSENGERS by BORIS NIKOLAYEVICH BUGAYEV |