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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=585987" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Haunted House</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I lay beside you… on your lips the while <br>Hovered, most strange… the mirage of a smile, <br>Such as a minstrel lover might have seen <br>Upon the visage of some antique queen— <br>Flickering like flame, half choked by wind and dust, <br>Weary of all things saving song and lust. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">How many days and years and lovers' lies <br>Gave you your knowledge? You are very wise <br>And tired, yet insatiate to the last. <br>These things I thought, but said not; and there passed <br>Before my vision in voluptuous quest, <br>The pageant of the lovers who possessed <br>Your soul and body even as I possess, <br>Who marked your passions in its nakedness <br>And all your love-sins when your love was new. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They saw as I your quivering breast, and drew <br>Nearer to the consuming flame that burns <br>Deep to the marrow of my bone, and turns <br>My heart to love even as theirs who knew <br>From head to girdle each sweet curve of you, <br>Each little way of loving. No caress, <br>But apes the part of former loves. Ah yes, <br>Even thus your hand toyed in the locks of him <br>Who came before me. Was he fair of limb <br>Or very dark? What matter, with such lures <br>You snared the hearts of all your paramours! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To-night I feel the presence of the others, <br>Your lovers were they and are now my brothers <br>And I have nothing that has not been theirs, <br>No single bloom the tree of passion bears <br>They have not plucked. Belovèd, can it be? <br>Is there no gift that you reserve for me— <br>No loving kindness or no subtle sin, <br>No secret shrine that none has entered in, <br>Whither no mocking memories pursue <br>Love's wistful pilgrim? I am weary too, <br>With weariness of all your lovers, when <br>I follow in the ways of other men, <br>I know each spot of your sweet body is <br>A cross, the tombstone of some perished kiss. <br>A touch… and an innumerable host <br>Of shadows rises… at each side a ghost. <br>Withal its beauty and its faultless grace <br>Your body, dearest, is a haunted place. <br>When I did yield to passion's swift demand, <br>One of your lovers touched me with his hand. <br>And in the pangs of amorous delight <br>I hear strange voices calling through the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Sylvester+Viereck">George Sylvester Viereck</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=585987" data-title="The Haunted House de George Sylvester Viereck" data-description="I lay beside you… on your lips the while /Hovered, most strange… the mirage of a smile, /Such as a minstrel lover might have seen /Upon the visage of some antique queen— /Flickering like flame, half choked by wind and dust, /Weary of all thi..."></div>
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