EVE OF ROMANCE

On such an eve, as every man does know,

All Nature does unite, and each caress

Imparts a soft, subdued, transluscent glow

Which emanates, though efforts to suppress

It fail, as each fold of the loved one’s dress

Descends by stages to the floor below.

And then in revelation she does stand,

That eyes may see what only hands have known,

Exulting in the beauty that was planned

By Him, supreme of sculptors, and has grown

And, having blossomed, ripened, now is shown

To eyes that lust, but eyes that understand.

He stands before her; falls upon his knees

To pay his homage to a form divine.

His arms encircle, nerveless yet to squeeze

That body, still and statuesque of line,

But gazes at her face as in a shrine

Of goddess Venus.  Dropping by degrees

His eyes encompass first that brow serene

And then her rapt’rous azure lids, half-closed,

Expressively, for teeming thoughts might glean

Her roused emotions were her eyes exposed,

Although revealing features quite composed,

More beauteous than e’er before had been.

A nose such as no artist could produce,

On either side of which a modest blush

Bears witness to her feelings.  To reduce

Her lips to words, though words would like to gush

Forth from this pen is, as it were, to brush

Aside all artistry, without excuse.

And then here chin and throat of lily white,

Unmarked by blemish, pure as falling snow,

Descending in such curve as Hogarth might

Admire, for him such beauty were enow,

But beauty such as this can only slow

The downward passage of his eager sight.

For with frail man desire begets desire

And passion rules out sentiments of art.

The mind subordinates itself to fire

Intense and ardent, springing from the heart,

A fire which, unextinguished, does impart

Such ecstasies as sense and frame inspire.

Longmoor, 1948