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AVE ATQUE VALE
AVE ATQUE VALE
Black dreams; the pale and sorrowful desireWhose eyes have looked on Lethe, and have seen,Deep in the sliding ebon tide serene,Their own vain light inverted; ashen fire,With wasted lilies, late and languishing;Autumnal roses blind with rain; slow foamFrom desert-sinking seas, with honeycombOf aconite and poppy—these I bringWith this my bitter, barren love to thee;And from the grievous springs of memory,Far in the great Maremma of my heart,I proffer thee to drink; and on thy mouth,With the one kiss wherein we meet and part,Leave fire and dust from quenchless leagues of drouth.
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