Untwine those ringlets! Ev'ry dainty clasp
That shines like twisted sunlight in my eye
Is but the coiling of the jewelled asp
That smiles to see men die.

Oh, cobra-curlÈd! Fierce-fanged fair one! Draw
Night's curtain o'er the landscape of thy hair!
I yield! I kneel! I own, I bless thy law
That dooms me to despair.

I mark the crimson ruby of thy lips,
I feel the witching weirdness of thy breath!
I droop! I sink into my soul's eclipse,—
I fall in love with death!

And yet, vouchsafe a moment! I would gaze
Once more into those sweetly-murderous eyes,
Soft glimmering athwart the pearly haze
That smites to dusk the skies.

Hast thou no pity? Must I darkly tread
The unknown paths that lead me wide from thee?
Hast thou no garland for this aching head
That soon so low must be?

No sound? No sigh? No smile? Is all forgot?
Then spin my shroud out of that golden skein
Thou callst thy tresses! I shall stay thee not—
My struggles were but vain!

But shall I see thee far beyond the sun,
When the new dawn lights Empyrean scenes?
What matters now? I know the poem's done,
And wonder what the dickens it all means!

Anonymous.