What smouldering senses in death's sick delay 
Or seizure of malign vicissitude 
Can rob this body of honour, or denude 
This soul of wedding-raiment worn to-day? 
For lo! even now my lady's lips did play 
With these my lips such consonant interlude 
As laurelled Orpheus longed for when he wooed 
The half-drawn hungering face with that last lay.

I was a child beneath her touch, -- a man 
When breast to breast we clung, even I and she, -- 
A spirit when her spirit looked through me, -- 
A god when all our life-breath met to fan 
Our life-blood, till love's emulous ardours ran, 
Fire within fire, desire in deity.