[Lprof-devel] s perceive

[Baltimore H. <lov...@so...>]

S' Bright crimson rim The passion slips, And down my slim White body
drips The shining hymn. And still before The altar I Exult the bowl
Brimful, and cry To you to stoop And drink, Most High. Oh drink me up
That I may be Within your cup Like a mystery, Like wine that is still In
ecstasy. Glimmering still In ecstasy, Commingled wines Of you and me In
one fulfil The mystery. PATIENCE A WIND comes from the north Blowing
little flocks of birds Like spray across the town, And a train, roaring
forth, Rushes stampeding down With cries and flying curds Of steam, out
of the darkening north. Whither I turn and set Like a needle
steadfastly, Waiting ever to get The news that she is free; But ever
fixed, as yet, To the lode of her agony. BALLAD OF ANOTHER OPHELIA OH
the green glimmer of apples in the orchard, Lamps in a wash of rain! Oh
the wet walk of my brown hen through the stack-yard, Oh tears on the
window pane! Nothing now will ripen the bright green apples, Full of
disappointment and of rain, Brackish they will taste, of tears, when the
yellow dapples Of autumn tell the withered tale again. All round the ya