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36
OPOPONAX
Blonde perfume of the painted girl!You where the heated dancers whirl
In mazes of the midnight ball
Or in the glittering music-hall,
Uplift your rich and cloying scent
Until the banal blandishment
Of whispers and inviting eyes
Seems tempting even to the wise.
But here your honeyed vapours bring
To me in solitude the ring
Of certain voices and the glance
Of eyelids fluttered in the dance
That once I knew: and bring again
The memories of ancient pain,
Of burning day and rose-red night...
Till I forget them in delight
Of your superb luxurious fume
About the scented curtained room.
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