O my Beloved, when to-day you said:
All this must perish and we two will go
Soulless and senseless, to the dust below!
I could but smile and fondle your dear head.
I could but catch your fingers as they fled
Over my throbbing breasts and whisper low,
Whence came this breast to lure your fingers flow?
These burning pulses, leaping passion-fed?
Dearest, you had no answer. But your blood
Drawing from mine the primal fires of God,
Leapt, laughed, and shouted, panting into mine
Love love is all; and sweeps in mighty flood
Minds, souls and bodies, from the nameless sod
Exultant to the feet of the Divine.