Spiritual Dawn
When dawn's pink fingers probe licentious beds,
A Vision of Perfection enters, too,
And puzzling metamorphoses ensue,
For angels wake inside those swinish heads.
They suffer as they dream, dismayed to be
Drawn onward, up through heaven's blue abyss,
Towards paradise - as towards a precipice.
Beloved Goddess, thus it is with Thee.
Out of a mindless waste of drink and sin,
Your image, incandescent as the dawn,
Leaps into the mind's eye time and again.
The candle-end's extinguished by the sun.
And like the sun, your own resplendent face
Can vanquish, and eclipse, the human race.
