Poem by Arthur William Symons

Benedictine

The Benedictine scents and stains
the languor of your pallid lips;
My kiss shall be a bee that sips
A fainting roseleaf flushed with rains.

I thirst, and yet my thirst increases
With draining deep and deeper kisses;
The odour of your breath releases
Desires that dream of deeper blisses.

And on my lips your lips now pressed
Cling moist and close; your lips begin
Devouringly to gather in
Your kisses that my lips possessed.

The odour of your breath releases
Wafts of intoxicating blisses;
Yet still my thirst of you increases,
I think beneath your thirsty kisses.

No kisses more, this perilous day,
Or tempting, tempt me not in vain:
This day I dare not taste again
Your lips that suck my soul away!

1. Serata Di Fiesta
2. In The Temple
3. By The Pool Of The Third Rosses
4. The Abandoned
5. At Burgos

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