Explore "Parfait Amour" by David Park Barnitz on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It is not that thy face is fair As dying sunsets are, Nor that thy lovely eyelids wear The splendour of a star;
'Tis the deep sadness of thine eyes Hath my heart captive led, And that within thy soul I prize The calmness of the dead.
O holy love, O fair white face, O sweet lost soul of thine!
Thy bosom is an altar-place, Thy kisses holy wine;
Sweet incense offer'd for my bliss Is thy corrupted breath, And on thy stained lips I kiss The holy lips of Death!
Wherefore because thy heart is all Fill'd full of mournfulness, And thy gold head as with a pall Hung o'er with sinfulness;
Because thy soul is utterly Sinful unto the core --
Therefore my heart is bound to thee, Dear love, forevermore!