Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/152

Like this? (The Steel is singing to me now, Still hidden in my breast—a low sweet song.)

Ah, this time there is no doubt! 'tis all true:
Her arms may fold me—fondle me, and I
May wholly yield myself to their caress
Quite sure it leaves no atom in reserve
For any other after me. And lo,
She is right worthy of a greater one
Than all the lovers that have ever loved
And, trembling, lost their women and themselves:
For splendour—such as stains for me and turns
My eyes disgusted from the vaunted white
Of many a bosom impudently bared—
Is in that bosom closely veiled, whose veils
I may undo—yea now, and with these hands;
It is my right. And then, O joy, to know
That this, so much more wonderful than those,
Shall ne'er be seen by anyone but me!
(Ah, sing on little voice!) But, as I said,
—Yes, she is worthy!—Come to me, my Sweet:
You have the greatest beauty God has made.