Beneath the living cross I lie And swoon towards eternity: Prodigious sinewy shapes, and lean, And curving limbs of Messaline. The deep arched eyes, the floating mane,– One pierces, one wraps-in my brain: A crown of thorn, a spear of clean Cold fire of dying Messaline. Swart tangles of devouring hair, The scorpion labyrinth and snare, […]