A GLASS OF ABSINTHE

It lay within a glass of green,

A sinuous glass of subtle green.

It sparkled with a slimy sheen.

A languorous fascination gleamed

With glint of lapis lazuli;

And from its silken surface streamed

The scent of musk from Araby.

Ah — was that music only dreamed

That tinct the drowsy scene?

And was my fancy false, or seemed

The glass to lure me with its limpid green?

My fingers fluttered to the stem,

To kiss the fluted, serpent stem,

As pious Persians kiss the hem,

Enwove with many a wanton trick,

Of Persia's deified Sofi.

I could not see; the light seemed thick

As perfume from the balsam-tree,

Or incense in a basalic

When sounds a requiem.

I drank the draught; my sense was sick;

My quivering fingers crushed the curling stem.

I dropped the cup of crystal-green;

I scattered fragments emerald-green —

False emeralds with a glassy sheen.

Upon the pavement, how they gleamed!

I flung the bits of serpent-stem

Upon the table beryl-seamed.

I swept them with my garment's hem —

Some say I laughed — That night, I dreamed

Of Araby — a scene

Of sleepy charm whence fragrance streamed;

And in mirage, the desert blossomed green.