Lawrence Durrell
Chanel
Scent like a river-pilot led me there:
Bedroom darkness spreading like a moss,
The polished wells of floors in blackness
Gave no reflections of the personage,
Or the half-open door, but whispered on:

"Skin be supple, hair be smooth,
Lips and character attend
In mnemonic solitude.
Kisses leave no fingerprints."
"Answer." But no answer came.
"Beauty hunted leaves no clues."

Yet as if rising from a still,
Perfume whispered at the sill,
All those discarded husks of thought
Hanging untenanted like gowns,
Rinds of which the fruit had gone...

Still the long chapter led me on.
Still the clock beside the bed
Heart-beat after heart-beat shed.