Aug. 18, 2012

Exsanguinous Poetry Excerpts

By faint degrees, voice, lute, and pleasure ceased;
A deadly silence step by step increased.
Until it seem'd a horrid presence there,
And not a man but felt the terror in his hair.
"Lamia!" he shriek'd, and nothing but the shriek
With its sad echo did the silence break.
"Begone, foul dream!" he cried, gazing again
In the bride's face, where now no azure vein
Wander'd on fair-spaced temples; no soft bloom
Misted the cheek; no passion to illume
The deep-recessed vision - all was bright;
Lamia, no longer fair, there sat a deadly white.

John Keats, "Lamia" (1819)