Embalmment

Let not a star suspect the mystery!
A cave that haunts thee in the dreams of night
Keep me as treasure hidden from thy sight.
And only thine while thou dost covet me!
As the Asmonean queen perpetually
Embalmed in honey, cold to thy delight,
Cold to thy touch, a sleeping eremite,
Beside thee never sleeping I would be.
Or thou might'st lay me in a sepulchre.
And every line of life will keep its bloom,
Long as thou seal'st me from the common air
Speak not, reveal not, . . . There will be
In the unchallenged dark a mystery.
And golden hair sprung rapid in a tomb.