These caressed him: Her hand out of the shadow When the black god whispered, "Beauty's to be taken." And he fought back: "Beauty is freest when treasured Only as a song is treasured; Beauty must give itself to be possessed -- Beauty taken is beauty lost." Her hand then, and now Memory of her throat of music Murmuring him to tranquil fields Where bleak roots blossom . . . "And where," he wondered sadly, "Together some day we shall close ears To the black gods? Close ears and ourselves be Beauty?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR 'OUR LADY OF THE ROCKS' (BY LEONARDO DA VINCI) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI A LULLABY by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA THE CITY: 2. THE CITY by STIRLING BOWEN A SPRAY OF HONEYSUCKLE by MARY EMILY NEELEY BRADLEY |