Forever conscript to profoundest dark, Yet still in flesh a consort with her kind, For her the soaring heavens flame and spark, Their terrible beauty regnant in her mind. For her, whatever shadow moved like mist, Still courses through her veins the trenchant press Of body's passion and the fruitful tryst Of sense and substance in a dark caress. No dark too deep but what her clasp can fold The seed that blooms the orchid, while the flame Of utterest anguish rectifies to gold, And death's intolerable nameless have a name. The vague Equator and the vaguer Pole Fuse to a meaning, and we sighted ones Behold the gloriole within her soul Assume terrestial orbit with the sun's. |