SEMPER IDEM.

Hold up thy head and crush

Thy heart's despair;

From thy wan temples brush

The tear-wet hair.

Look on me thus as I

Gaze upon thee;

Nor question how nor why

Such things can be.

Thou thought'st it love!— poor fool!

That which was lust!

Which made thee, beautiful,

Vile as the dust!

Thy flesh I craved, thy face!—

Love shrinks at this —

Now on thy lips to place

One farewell kiss!—

Weep not, but die!—‘ tis given —

And so — farewell!—

Die!— that which makes death heaven,

Makes life a hell.