How sweet she seems, how virginal in sleep
Her raven hair a swirling pool of night
Outspread upon the pillows pallid plain.
And how her peeping shell pink extends these
And loves the shadowed column of her neck.
Oh that neck, how soft it seems, and warm.
Warm with the pulsing life of living Blood.
Yet I will kiss it knowing what I do.
In vain pretence, I am not what I am
To lose myself in that ecstatic kiss
To feel new life – vibrant lynching, warm
Coursing my cold and mongering veins
Crypt cold, death in life and life in death
What now, she wakes, just as my searching lips
Would seek the hallowed, hallowed vital place
Concealing the cortoid. There my child
No need for such alarm. I am a guest
Seeking my room, you know, the ancient house
Reminds me of the maze of Hampton Court.
Your father, call him if you will, he’ll hear,
When telling me how I could find my room.
Said left and left again, or was it right
No matter, as you see, I came in here
And found a sleeping beauty in my bed
I seek to sustain myself on borrowed life.
You too would be a VAMPIRE and remain
Your present age, what is it, sweet fifteen?
For untold years until you were released
At cruel crossroads by a plunging stake
That pierced your heart. Or till a silver bullet
Puts an end to “LIFE”. Often I have thought
Of suicide but being already dead,
After a fashion, cannot find a way
To end the spark of life I still possess.
Now look into my eyes and go to sleep
Relax and drift away and go to sleep
Breath slow and deep relax and go to sleep
And do not deer, relax and go to sleep
Deeper to sleep deeper, deeper, deep.
In calm and healing sleep. Relax and sleep.
She is asleep and I must make my way.
Unsatisfied, away, back to my tomb.
And must ignore the hunger of my veins,
That screams and clamours for the kiss of life.
Of life for me, of Death for her, a drug
For worse than opium, cocaine or heroin,
Whose lack now tears, my wrongdoing neves to shreds
Ah that sweet neck, and can I go away?
And here I left to “find” my room again.
I could not help but stand and gaze a while
And would in best tradition risk a kiss
If you were still asleep. Now settle down
To sleep, and leave an aged man his dreams.
Not old! Why! I am older than you think.
Seems a hundred years since I was young.
Now sleep! You smile and ask a goodnight kiss.
Oh God! Such innocence would make a Satyr weep.
My child, I’ll tell you who and what I am!
No guest am I, I’ll smile and show my teeth.
White are they and sharp, accused points
That injure in love and make of passion Death
Nay, worse than death. You do not understand!
Then look across the room to that fair glass.
That prettily reflects your cosy bed.
See! See yourself and I am standing by.
Well! Where am I, oh where on earth am I?
And if I gave a kiss then you would die.
And never die for soon, beyond volition
A strange compulsive force would seize your limbs
As in uneasy sleep within the tomb
You lay awaiting it, and you would rise
And prowl the night to find a sleeping man
For whom to be a succubus, as I
An incubus for maiden dreams of love
H SV Beechey