O lovely demon, half-divine!

Hemlock, and hydromel, and gall,

Honey, and aconite, and wine,

Mingle to make that mouth of thine—

Thy mouth I love: But most of all,

It is thy tears that I desire—

Thy tears, like fountain-drops that fall

In gardens red, Satanical;

Or like the tears of mist and fire,

Wept by the moon, that wizards use

To secret runes, when they require

Some silver philtre, sweet and dire.