Poems (Cromwell)/Temptation
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For works with similar titles, see Temptation.
TEMPTATION
You feel the witchery of Life, the call
Of a disturbing beauty; you respond
And view forbidden mysteries beyond
The soul whose orbit seems to you so small.
But I am not thus tempted: not by all
Life's dear implied seductions. No, a bond
Of thought subdues me; rather am I fond
Of quietness, of safeties which enthrall:
Of self-enshrining loneliness. I fail
To make the gesture Life awaits; withhold
A motion of the hand, a word, a kiss,
A glance of plain avowal. Standing cold,
Aloof, the tempered silences prevail,
And steeped in dreams I lose authentic bliss.
Of a disturbing beauty; you respond
And view forbidden mysteries beyond
The soul whose orbit seems to you so small.
But I am not thus tempted: not by all
Life's dear implied seductions. No, a bond
Of thought subdues me; rather am I fond
Of quietness, of safeties which enthrall:
Of self-enshrining loneliness. I fail
To make the gesture Life awaits; withhold
A motion of the hand, a word, a kiss,
A glance of plain avowal. Standing cold,
Aloof, the tempered silences prevail,
And steeped in dreams I lose authentic bliss.