To Laura in The Gate of the Sanctuary from The Temple of the Holy Ghost (Collected Works, Vol I) by Aleister Crowley.

“MISTRESS, I pray thee, when the wind
Exults upon the roaring sea,
Come to my bosom, kissed and kind
And sleep upon the lips of me!” [via]

Consider also:

  1. “I must not stoop and take my ease, Or touch the body lithe and thin. Bright body of the myriad smiles, Sweet serpent of the lower life, The smooth silk touch of thee defiles, The lures and languors of a wife. Slip to the floor, I must not turn: There is a lion in the way! The star of morning rise and burn: I seek the dim supernal day!”
  2. “Slow and divine thy gentle breath Woos my warm throat: my spirit flies Beyond the iron walls of death, And seeks strange portals, pale and wise.”
  3. “A spirit walking in a dream, I went To the high throne–they shook the firmament With foolish cheers. I knelt before the queen And wept in silence. Then, as it had been And angel’s voice and touch, her face she bent, Lifted and kissed me–oh! her lips were keen! Her voice was softer than a virgin’s eyes: ‘Go! my true knight: for thither, thither lies The only road for thee; thou hast a prayer Wafted each hour–my spirit will be there!’ Too late I knew what subtle Paradise Her dreams and prayers portend: too fresh, too fair! I turned more wretched than myself knew yet. I told my nameless pain I should forget Its shadow as it passed.”
  4. “The king was silent. None of us would stir. I sat, struck dumb, a living sepulchre. For–hear me! in my heart this thing became My sacrament, my pentecostal flame. And with it grew a fear–a fear of Her. What Her? Shame had not found itself a name. Simply I knew it in myself. I brood Ten years–so seemed it–O! the bitter food In my mouth nauseate! In the silent hall One might have heard God’s sparrow in its fall. But I was lost in mine own solitude– I should not hear Mikhael’s trumpet-call. Yet there did grow a clamour shrill and loud: One cursed, one crossed himself, another vowed His soul against the quest; the tumult ran Indecorous in that presence, man to man. Stilled suddenly, beholding how I bowed My soul in thought: another cry began. ‘Gereth the dauntless! Gereth of the Sea! Gereth the loyal! Child of royalty! witch-mothered Gereth! Sword above the strong, heart pure, head many-wiled!’ The knightly throng Clamour my name, and flattering words, to me– If they may ‘scape the quest–I do them wrong; They are my friends! Yet something terrible Rings in the manly music that they swell. They are all caught in this immense desire Deeper than heaven, tameless as the fire. All catch the fear–the fear of Her–as well, And dare not–even afraid, I must aspire.”
  5. “Behold! I came with haggard mien again Into the hall, and mingled with the train, A corpse amid the dancers. Then the king Saw me, and knew me–and he knew the ring!”