5 THE BLACK MASS
1
Lord! on love's alter lies the sacrament.
     O willing victim, eager to be slain,
Lusting to feel the knife, the life-veil rent,
Assumption energized by death! O fain
To feel the murderous ardour of the priest
Clutch at his throat, theurgic frenzy fly
About the initiates of the Paschal feast
And know it in the dim dead I
Loosed the pang - even thus you know it is, 
Even thus when I invoke your harsh caress,
Put up my mouth to your immortal kiss,
Confess you for my lady and murderess - 
In mine own life-blood I exult to float
Even as your white fangs fasten in my throat.