Classic Poem

Your body has the hot splendour of gold lands
Laden with sunlight and sharp heat —
Lovely and savage.

Hair such as yours
Folded the white brows of Lesbia;
Such subtle weary eyes
Stabbed the young Roman to despair.

You are of those whose cruel lips
Cried in the flame-pierced darkness
Curses and prayers to Hecate;
Whose mouths were swift and soft to kiss
And, having kissed, were bitter in revenge.

Such little breasts as yours
Felt the quick asp bite
Where lords had pressed their lips.

For such as you
Kings have laid down their diadems,
And brave men have shed tears,
And gentle men done secret murder.

And you are indifferent to all this,
Weary-eyed and too distraught to care
Whether your hands are wet with tears or blood;
Your eyes strain through a mist of lust
For one face clear with love,
Your lips parch for one kiss of tenderness.