The azure films upon her eyes

Are folded like the wings of terns;

But still the wavering tide returns,

And in her hair an ocean sighs:

Still in her flesh the Anger glows

And in her breathing seems to hiss

The phantom of the fiercest kiss

With which we slew its crimson rose—

As in a flushed barbaric shell

Whose lips of coral, sharked with pearls,

Of the remembered surges tell,

A ghostly siren swells the roar

And sings of some deserted shore

Within whose caves the ocean swirls.