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Arthur Symons - The Rapture
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I drank your flesh, and when the soul brimmed up 
In that sufficing cup, 
Then, slowly, Steadfastly, I drank your soul; 
Thus I possessed you whole; 
And then I saw you, white, and vague, and warm, 
And happy, as that storm 
Enveloped you in its delirious peace, 
And fearing but release, 
Perfectly glad to be so lost and found, 
And without wonder drowned 
In little shuddering quick waves of bliss; 
Then I, beholding this 
More wonderingly than a little lake 
That the white moon should make 
Her nest among its waters, being free 
Of the whole land and sea, 
Remembered, in that utmost pause, that heaven 
Is to each angel given 
As wholly as to Michael or the Lord, 
And of the saints` reward 
There is no first or last, supreme delight 
Being one and infinite. 
Then I was quieted, and had no fear 
That such a thing, so dear 
And so incredible, being thus divine, 
Should be, and should be mine, 
And should not suddenly vanish away. 
Now, as the lonely day 
Forgets the night, and calls the world from dreams, 
This, too, with daylight, seems 
A thing that might be dreaming; for my soul 
Seems to possess you whole, 
And every nerve remembers: can it be 
This young delight is old as memory?
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