Like Lilith, mother Lilith, I have wound
About my heart the serpent of desire.
A purple galleon on a sea of fire
Has borne my footsteps to forbidden ground,
Where glittering with corruption all the time,
Death in its shadow, dreams the Upas tree;
But with its dew, as sugar sucks the bee,
I have enriched the honeycomb of rhyme.

A riot of strange roses is my life —
Pale as Narcissus gazing wistfully,
And crimson red as the great Rose of Strife
Upon the zone of Menelaus' wife, —
Distilled by love with lyric alchemy,
Heart of my heart, into one song for thee.