O Secret and sharp sting
That ends and makes delight,
Come, my limbs call thee, smite
To music every string
Of my limbs quivering.
I strain, and follow on
After a joy in flight,
That flies, and is delight
Only when it is gone,
Not to be looked upon.
I strain, and would embrace
With ardours infinite
Some angel of delight
That turns his heavenly face
Ever into void space.
I dance, and as I dance
Desires as fires burn white
To fan the flame delight;
What vague desires advance
With covered countenance?
I dance, and shall not tire
Though music in my sight
Faint before my delight,
And song like a thin fire
Fail before my desire.
The sense within me turns
In labyrinths as of light.
Not dying into delight;
As a flame quickening burns,
Speed in my body yearns.
I Stop, a quivering
Wraps me and folds me tight;
I shudder, and touch delight,
The secret and sharp sting,
Suddenly, a grave thing.
