Caricamento in corso...


At your mouth, white and milk-warm sphinx,
   I taste a strange apocalypse:
   Your subtle taper finger-tips
   Weave me new heavens, yet, methinks,
   I know the wiles and each iynx
   That brought me passionate to your lips:
   I know you bare as laughter strips
   Your charnel beauty; yet my spirit drinks
   Pure knowledge from this tainted well,
   And now hears voices yet unheard
   Within it, and without it sees
   That world of which the poets tell
   Their vision in the stammered word
   Of those that wake from piercing ecstasies.
Piaciuto o affrontato da...
Altre opere di Aldous Huxley...