Ls the Conjugial Angel stoneThat here he stands with heavy headThe backward-looking pillared deadInert, moss-covered, aIl alone?The Holy Ghost trawls ln the Void,With fleshly Sophy on His HookThe Sons of God crowd round to lookAt plumpy limbs to be enjoyedThe Greater Man casts out the lineWith dangling Sophy as the lureWho howls around the Heavens' colureTo clasp the Human Form DivineRose-petals fall from fallen hairThat in the clay is redolentOf liquid oozings and the scentOf the dark Pit, the Beastly lairAnd is my Love become the beastThat was, and is not, and yet is,Who stretches scarlet holes to kissAnd clasps with claws the fleshly feastSweet Rosamund, adult'rous RoseMay lie inside her urn and stinkWhlle Alfred's tears tum into inkAnd drop into her quelque-choseThe Angel spreads his golden wingsAnd raises high his golden cockAnd man and wife together lockInto one corpse that moans and sings