Classic Poem

I envy you, I envy you,
Amid the rumble and hoot and clatter
Of London's traffic.

Happy pair!
Your left and right hands drop
And find each other
And wring each other.

White in the sun
From hat to shoes,
Only the pink of your ankles showing
Through the white stockings.

Straight-limbed,
Firm-bosomed,
Soft in the folds of your blouse.

And you, O Youth,
With the flush on your cheeks,
In your eyes a happy admiration,
I envy you.

Your hands seek and wring each other;
Your limbs attract each other
Through their clothing;
And you would marry
If this and that concurred.
Foolish, oh foolish!
It is not your youth,
Your straightness, your cleanness, your bloom,
I envy:
It is your virginity.
You would part with it in a burst of joy,
And would not know your loss,
Perceiving it.

But beauty, — ...
Do you not feel it upon you?...
Strive to reach the grape, but do not pluck it.
The gesture is all.