THROUGH hurtling space he fled from star to
star
On pinions of damnation, for there trailed
Upon him frantic shapes which clutching wailed,
A long black mass which mouthed each wound and
scar,
Their dry lips mumbling love with lust to mar
His vigour by their weakness; and he quailed,
And headlong down the darkness flashed and failed.
Held by their black mass weltering from afar.
He cried: “They burden me and drain my blood
And from their sated vampire-love eschew
Me victim, till they famish when they claim
Me saviour, lord of love 1 . . . This time-long flood
Reeks – whence they praise my glory and pursue
Me ever …. pity, O my God, my shame !”
(E J Rupert Atkinson)
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