I WOULD I had thrust my hands of flesh Into the disk-flowers bee-infested, Into the mirror-like core of fire Of the light of life, the sun of delight. For what are anthers worth or petals Or halo-rays? Mockeries, shadows Of the heart of the flower, the central flame! All is yours, young passer-by; Enter the banquet room with the thought; Don't sidle in as if you were doubtful Whether you're welcome -- the feast is yours! Nor take but a little, refusing more With a bashful "Thank you," when you're hungry. Is your soul alive? Then let it feed! Leave no balconies where you can climb; Nor milk-white bosoms where you can rest; Nor golden heads with pillows to share; Nor wine cups while the wine is sweet; Nor ecstasies of body or soul, You will die, no doubt, but die while living In depths of azure, rapt and mated, Kissing the queen-bee, Life! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DAT GAL O' MINE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO SHELLEY by JOHN BANISTER TABB THE NOTHING REDEMPTION by BRUCE WEIGL WRESTLING JACOB by CHARLES WESLEY A YOUTH TO HIS FATHER by WALTER R. ADAMS RELIGION; AN ESSAY IN COUPLETS by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |