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The ardour of red flame is thine,
And thine the steely soul of ice:
Thou poisonest the fair design
Of nature, with unfair device. Apples of ashes, golden bright;
Waters of bitterness, how sweet!
O banquet of a foul delight,
Prepared by thee, dark Paraclete!

— Lionel Johnson The Dark Angel (1895)

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More quotes by Lionel Johnson

Alone he rides, alone,
The fair and fatal king:
Dark night is all his own,
That strange and solemn thing.

By the Statue of King Charles at Charing Cross (1895)

Dark Angel, with thine aching lust
To rid the world of penitence:
Malicious Angel, who still dost
My soul such subtile violence!

The Dark Angel (1895)

Ill times may be; she hath no thought of time:
She reigns beside the waters yet in pride.

Some players upon plaintive strings
Publish their wistfulness abroad;
I have not spoken of these things,
Save to one man, and unto God.

Our wearier spirit faints,
Vexed in the world‘s employ:
His soul was of the saints;
And art to him was joy.

By the Statue of King Charles at Charing Cross (1895)

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Lionel Johnson (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.