(TO E. A. POE)

Egypt had cheated us, for Egypt took through guile and craft our treasure and our hope, Egypt had maimed us, offered dream for life, an opiate for a kiss, and death for both.

White poison flower we loved and the black spike of an ungarnered bush (a spice or without taste we wondered then we asked others to take and sip and watched their death) Egypt we loved, though hate should have withheld our touch.

Egypt had given us knowledge, and we took, blindly, through want of heart, what Egypt brought; knowing all poison, what was that or this, more or less perilous, than this or that.

We pray you, Egypt, by what perverse fate, has poison brought with knowledge, given us this not days of trance, shadow, fore-doom of death, but passionate grave thought, belief enhanced, ritual returned and magic;

Even in the uttermost black pit of the forbidden knowledge, wisdoms glance, the grey eyes following in the mid-most desert great shaft of rose, fire shed across our path, upon the face grown grey, a light, Hellas re-born from death.