Weird Tales/Volume 7/Issue 3/Astarte
ASTARTE
Your lips half part in a painted smile,
Hiding your thoughts, revealing but your guile;
Your dark-veiled, dusky, Saracenic eyes
Look down, and look but to despise
The fools who bend to kiss your dainty feet;
Your scornful, mocking lips are poison-sweet
As hasheesh mingled with Shirazi wine. . . .
And yet your lovers gather at your shrine,
Pale simulacrum wreathed in mystery:
Infatuated by your sorcery,
Lured by flame and shadow alternate,
They worship you who neither love nor hate.