THE HIDDEN PARADISEOur passion is a secret Paradise—Eden of lotos and the fruitful date,With silence walled and held undesecrateBy man or prying seraph: We are wiseAs any god and goddess, who have wrungFrom roseal fruitage of a bough forbidden,The happy wine we drink, we drink unchidden,Deep in the vales where vernal leaves are young,And the first poppies loiter.**** Though the breathOf all the gods a bolted storm prepare,And blood-red gloom of thunders blind the sun,Shall we not turn, with clinging kisses there,And, laughing, quaff some dreamless wine of death—Triumphant still, in mere oblivion?
Our passion is a secret Paradise—Eden of lotos and the fruitful date,With silence walled and held undesecrateBy man or prying seraph: We are wiseAs any god and goddess, who have wrungFrom roseal fruitage of a bough forbidden,The happy wine we drink, we drink unchidden,Deep in the vales where vernal leaves are young,And the first poppies loiter.**** Though the breathOf all the gods a bolted storm prepare,And blood-red gloom of thunders blind the sun,Shall we not turn, with clinging kisses there,And, laughing, quaff some dreamless wine of death—Triumphant still, in mere oblivion?
Our passion is a secret Paradise—Eden of lotos and the fruitful date,With silence walled and held undesecrateBy man or prying seraph: We are wiseAs any god and goddess, who have wrungFrom roseal fruitage of a bough forbidden,The happy wine we drink, we drink unchidden,Deep in the vales where vernal leaves are young,And the first poppies loiter.**** Though the breathOf all the gods a bolted storm prepare,And blood-red gloom of thunders blind the sun,Shall we not turn, with clinging kisses there,And, laughing, quaff some dreamless wine of death—Triumphant still, in mere oblivion?
Our passion is a secret Paradise—Eden of lotos and the fruitful date,With silence walled and held undesecrateBy man or prying seraph: We are wise
Our passion is a secret Paradise—
Eden of lotos and the fruitful date,
With silence walled and held undesecrate
By man or prying seraph: We are wise
As any god and goddess, who have wrungFrom roseal fruitage of a bough forbidden,The happy wine we drink, we drink unchidden,Deep in the vales where vernal leaves are young,
As any god and goddess, who have wrung
From roseal fruitage of a bough forbidden,
The happy wine we drink, we drink unchidden,
Deep in the vales where vernal leaves are young,
And the first poppies loiter.**** Though the breathOf all the gods a bolted storm prepare,And blood-red gloom of thunders blind the sun,
And the first poppies loiter.**** Though the breath
Of all the gods a bolted storm prepare,
And blood-red gloom of thunders blind the sun,
Shall we not turn, with clinging kisses there,And, laughing, quaff some dreamless wine of death—Triumphant still, in mere oblivion?
Shall we not turn, with clinging kisses there,
And, laughing, quaff some dreamless wine of death—
Triumphant still, in mere oblivion?