All Night in White Stains by Aleister Crowley.

“Ah! day
So soon to dawn, delight to snatch away!
Damned day, whose sunlight finds us as with wine
Drunken, with lust made manifest divine
Devils of darkness, servants unto hell” [via]

Consider also:

  1. “You say — but Oh! my Marion’s kiss Shall linger on my palate still, No joy on earth is like to this That we have tasted to our fill Of all our sweet lascivious will. The cup is drained of lust’s delight, Yet wells with pleasure, and by night I’ll come once more and loving lie Between thine amorous limbs, despite That we must part and love must die.”
  2. “But raise no head; I know thee, breast and thigh, Lips, hair and eyes and mouth: I will not die But thou come with me o’er the gate of death. So, blood and body furious with breath That pants through foaming kisses, let us stay Gripped hard together to keep life away, Mouths drowned in murder, never satiate, Kissing away the hard decrees of Fate, Kissing insatiable in mad desire Kisses whose agony may never tire, Kissing the gates of hell, the sword of God, Each unto each a serpent or a rod, A well of wine and fire, each unto each, Whose lips are fain convulsively to reach A higher heaven, a deeper hell.”
  3. “I often see him in my mind as I saw him once at Hammersmith holding up a glass of claret towards the light and saying, ‘Why do people say it is prosaic to get inspiration out of wine? Is it not the sunlight and the sap in the leaves? Are not grapes made by the sunlight and the sap?'”
  4. “I have an idol wrought of stainless gold Before whose feet I bow, in whose delight I am content to live, whose spells of might Are smiles that gleam, are tears that glisten cold On the fair cheek that blushes if I praise; Are warm ripe kisses in the softer hours When love is perfect blossom of sweet flowers, Are shadowed glances of pure love light rays From clear blue eyes, are wonderful caresses When love is golden autumn of sweet fruit. What other worship can usurp my days When I may lie amid her sunny tresses Enraptured by the music of her lute One long calm love, one heart’s delight always?”
  5. “Wealth brought to me a purse, whose glancing gold Mocked the sun’s rays, grown dull as iron rust, And pressed it in my hand, saying ‘Behold The corner-stone of fame, the means of lust’ And I ‘In thee I put but little trust Shameful, most vile, accursed of God’s ire, Dross of the dunghill’s most detested dust, Thou has a guerdon, is it not for hire?'”