The Philtre
WITCH-POWDER , glowing crimson in this crystal-shining flask,
How wilt thou work my bidding, how give me what I ask?
When thou blushest in the ruby of the royal wine he drains,
When thou speed'st a redder surging through the lab'rinth of his veins,
By what thrill of fiery impulse shall his passion be approved?
What sign shall tell he loves me, even like as I have loved?
Will he rise up proud and burning with a burst of sudden light,
Like the aloe robed and gorgeous with the magic of a night?
Will he droop in pale declining, with tearfulness opprest,
Like the lily when the rain-pearl has stolen to her breast?
Will he come to me securely, and kiss without a word?
Or the eye alone acknowledge how the silent heart is stirred?
Will his bosom heave and stifle with a voice ununderstood?
Will he catch my hand and press it, till the snow is fire and blood?
Blood is burned up, snow is melted, fire is billowing night and day—
Pour thyself on me, Belovèd, quench me ere I burn away!
How wilt thou work my bidding, how give me what I ask?
When thou blushest in the ruby of the royal wine he drains,
When thou speed'st a redder surging through the lab'rinth of his veins,
By what thrill of fiery impulse shall his passion be approved?
What sign shall tell he loves me, even like as I have loved?
Will he rise up proud and burning with a burst of sudden light,
Like the aloe robed and gorgeous with the magic of a night?
Will he droop in pale declining, with tearfulness opprest,
Like the lily when the rain-pearl has stolen to her breast?
Will he come to me securely, and kiss without a word?
Or the eye alone acknowledge how the silent heart is stirred?
Will his bosom heave and stifle with a voice ununderstood?
Will he catch my hand and press it, till the snow is fire and blood?
Blood is burned up, snow is melted, fire is billowing night and day—
Pour thyself on me, Belovèd, quench me ere I burn away!
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