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

“So the long way seemed moving as I went,
Flashing beneath me; and the firmament
Moving with quicker robes that swept the air.
Still Dian drew me to her bosom bare,
And madness more than will was my content.
I moved, and as I moved I was aware!” [via]

Consider also:

  1. “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!”
  2. “I lifted up my eyes. What soul stood there, Fronting my path? Tall, stately, delicate, A woman fairer than a pomegranate. A silver spear her hands of lotus bear, One shaft of moonlight quivering and straight. She pointed to the East with flashing eyes: ‘Thou canst not see her–but my Queen shall rise.’ Bowed head and beating heart, with feet unsure I passed her, trembling, for she was too pure. I could have loved her. No: she was too wise. Her presence was to gracious to endure. ‘She did not bid me go and chain me to her,’ I cried, comparing.”
  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. “Let the ripe kisses of your thirsty throats And beating blossoms of your breath, and flowers Of swart illimitable hair that floats Vague and caressing, and the amorous powers Of your unceasing hours, The rich hot fragrance of your dewy skins, The eyes that yearn, the breasts that bleed, the thighs That cling and cluster to these infinite sins, Forget the earthlier pleasures of the prize, And raise diviner sighs; Cling to the white and bloody feet that hang, And drink the purple of a God’s pure side; With your wild hair assuage His deadliest pang, And on His broken bosom still abide His virginal white bride.”
  5. “Where am I? Seven days my spirit fell, Down, down the whirlpools and the gulfs of hell: Seven days a corpse lay desolate–at last Back drew the spirit and the soul aghast To animate that clay–O horrible! The resurrection pang is hardly past. Yet in awhile I stumbled to my feet To flee–no nightmare could be worse to meet. And, spite of that, I knew some deadlier trap Some worm more poisonous would set–mayhap!”