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D.H. Lawrence (1885–1930). Amores. 1916.

19. Mystery

NOW I am all

One bowl of kisses,

Such as the tall

Slim votaresses

Of Egypt filled

For a God’s excesses.

I lift to you

My bowl of kisses,

And through the temple’s

Blue recesses

Cry out to you

In wild caresses.

And to my lips’

Bright crimson rim

The passion slips,

And down my slim

White body drips

The shining hymn.

And still before

The altar I

Exult the bowl

Brimful, and cry

To you to stoop

And drink, Most High.

Oh drink me up

That I may be

Within your cup

Like a mystery,

Like wine that is still

In ecstasy.

Glimmering still

In ecstasy,

Commingled wines

Of you and me

In one fulfil

The mystery.