Hard have you won her, and must hold as fast!
She is Love's reveller - those tawny eyes
Are up and down still in warm passion cast,
And woe betide the soul whom they surprise!
Yet is she yours - you deem not for a while.
But have you felt the fiery stress of her?
It is a woman's, yet a serpent's smile
A Cleopatra yields her worshipper.
The cruel sweetness of her beauty lurks
In all her lovers' ruin; none may dare
To toy with her but love like poison works
To madness or the sorrow of despair: -
And you - the Antony of her desire?
Her love is still as a consuming fire.