D.H. Lawrence (1885–1930). Amores. 1916.
19. Mystery
N
One bowl of kisses,
Such as the tall
Slim votaresses
Of Egypt filled
For a God’s excesses.
My bowl of kisses,
And through the temple’s
Blue recesses
Cry out to you
In wild caresses.
Bright crimson rim
The passion slips,
And down my slim
White body drips
The shining hymn.
The altar I
Exult the bowl
Brimful, and cry
To you to stoop
And drink, Most High.
That I may be
Within your cup
Like a mystery,
Like wine that is still
In ecstasy.
In ecstasy,
Commingled wines
Of you and me
In one fulfil
The mystery.