I know the woman has no soul, I know The woman has no possibilities Of soul or mind or heart, but merely is The masterpiece of flesh: well, be it so. It is her flesh that I adore; I go Thirsting afresh to drain her empty kiss; I know she cannot love: 'tis not for this I rush to her embraces like a foe. Tyrannously I crave, I crave alone, Her body, now a silent instrument, That at my touch shall wake and make for me The strains that I have dreamed of, and not known; Her perfect body, Earth's most eloquent Music, the divine human harmony. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE YARN OF THE 'NANCY BELL' by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT CLOTHES DO BUT CHEAT AND COZEN US by ROBERT HERRICK THE WAVING OF THE CORN by SIDNEY LANIER NEW YORK AT NIGHT by AMY LOWELL THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 50. WILLOWWOOD (2) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI A SUMMER SUMMARY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |