Of all wild flashes from vainly imagined fleshes,
In dream thick as smoke of opium
I have seen her dim hint grow golder
Through a veil of hope and distance.
(until last evening)
I stood nearer the lonely figure there
Among the others, gathering like her shroud
But only briefly. Then, giving in to nervous air,
Withdrew my shyness from her into the crowd.
Caught in the light of her slender frenzy
(And the ages past of that fierce beauty.)
Half-hoping to stop her eyes and fall
Into that deep-cool release where I’d learn
Her gentle wake could cure all and
“Sure eyes awake before the dancing is over.”
So from far away, I’ll drink secretly from her hands
To quiet the strong rhythms of those far Eastern lands.
Then stir the early cocktail of last night’s reprieve
While she lies in morning silence, unaware of my soaring eve.
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