There are some powerful odours that can pass Out of the stoppered flagon; even glass To them is porous. Oft when some old box Brought from the East is opened and the locks And hinges creak and cry; or in a press In some deserted house, where the sharp stress Of odours old and dusty fills the brain; An ancient flask is brought to light again, And forth the ghosts of long-dead odours creep. There, softly trembling in the shadows, sleep A thousand thoughts, funereal chrysalides, Phantoms of old the folding darkness hides, Who make faint flutterings as their wings unfold, Rose-washed and azure-tinted, shot with gold. A memory that brings languor flutters here: The fainting eyelids droop, and giddy Fear Thrusts with both hands the soul towards the pit Where, like a Lazarus from his winding-sheet, Arises from the gulf of sleep a ghost Of an old passion, long since loved and lost. So I, when vanished from man's memory Deep in some dark and sombre chest I lie, An empty flagon they have cast aside, Broken and soiled, the dust upon my pride, Will be your shroud, beloved pestilence! The witness of your might and virulence, Sweet poison mixed by angels; bitter cup Of life and death my heart has drunken up! REVERSIBILITY Angel of gaiety, have you tasted grief? Shame and remorse and sobs and weary spite, And the vague terrors of the fearful night That crush the heart up like a crumpled leaf? Angel of gaiety, have you tasted grief? Angel of kindness, have you tasted hate? With hands clenched in the shade and tears of gall, When Vengeance beats her hellish battle-call, And makes herself the captain of our fate, Angel of kindness, have you tasted hate? Angel of health, did ever you know pain, Which like an exile trails his tired footfalls The cold length of the white infirmary walls, With lips compressed, seeking the sun in vain? Angel of health, did ever you know pain? Angel of beauty, do you wrinkles know? Know you the fear of age, the torment vile Of reading secret horror in the smile Of eyes your eyes have loved since long ago? Angel of beauty, do you crinkles know? Angel of happiness, and joy, and light, Old David would have asked for youth afresh From the pure touch of your enchanted flesh; I but implore your prayers to aid my plight, Angel of happiness, and joy, and light. THE EYES OF BEAUTY You are a sky of autumn, pale and rose; But all the sea of sadness in my blood Surges, and ebbing, leaves my lips morose, Salt with the memory of the bitter flood. In vain your hand glides my faint bosom o'er, That which you seek, beloved, is desecrate By woman's tooth and talon; ah, no more Seek in me for a heart which those dogs ate.