Has not Luini writ in fire The secret of our own desire? Your eyelids heavy with the sense Of some strange passionate suspense, And your mouth subtly hungering Who knows for what forbidden thing? Yea, and my longings that would pierce The obscure dividing universe, To die into your heaven of love; Our passion, and the end thereof, Love, even to the death of love. You were this martyr, I the saint For whom your aching eyelids faint In this pretence of chastity; The mystic spousal that shall be Betwixt your Lord and you, divine And deathless, does but symbol mine; Bride of my ultimate desires, And equal flamelike with my fires! This did Luini once record, Unto the glory of the Lord, And for us chiefly, and for all, Upon the sanctuary wall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INSCRIPTIONS: 1. FOR A GROTTO by MARK AKENSIDE THE CONFESSIONAL by ROBERT BROWNING WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU by ROBERT BURNS THE WILLOWS by FRANCIS BRET HARTE HIS GRANGE, OR PRIVATE WEALTH by ROBERT HERRICK THE HIGH TIDE AT [OR, ON THE COAST OF] LINCOLNSHIRE by JEAN INGELOW |