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Arthur Symons - The Dancer’s Reward
Work rating: Low

The anguish of an intant: her reward, 
Salome`s, who has danced the dance of Death. 
Blood drips from the severed head of the Abhorred, 
Venomous as viper`s blood; on her lips, her breath 
Divides them in a spasm; cruelty 
Glares in her eyes; her hand holds like a sword 
One lock of dead black hair that angrily 
Revolts as snakes do in their tangled lair. 
Ah, the death-agony of that dear dead mouth, 
Salome`s mouth, when it was living, adored! 
Still the blood drips. O wind out of the south 
Waft hellward that crescent on Salome`s hair! 
Ah, the sweet hell that, after her dancing, grips her! 
That head of death; the terror of it grows 
Upon her. O that mad folly of the Rose 
That dances in her vision and that lips her!
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