Classic Poem

Has not Luini writ in fire
The secret of our own desire?
Your eyelids heavy with the sense
Of some strange passionate suspense,
And your mouth subtly hungering
Who knows for what forbidden thing?
Yea, and my longings that would pierce
The obscure dividing universe,
To die into your heaven of love;
Our passion, and the end thereof,
Love, even to the death of love.
You were this martyr, I the saint
For whom your aching eyelids faint
In this pretence of chastity;
The mystic spousal that shall be
Betwixt your Lord and you, divine
And deathless, does but symbol mine;
Bride of my ultimate desires,
And equal flamelike with my fires!

This did Luini once record,
Unto the glory of the Lord,
And for us chiefly, and for all,
Upon the sanctuary wall.