Classic Poem

Kissing Hippomenes, I crave
Leander's touch;
while clinging to Leander's lips
my fancy dwells as much

on Xanthus; locked in his embrace
my heart strays back,
restless, toward Hippomenes.
Yearning for what I lack,

shrinking in turn from those I hold
in shifting arms,
contentedly I taste the wealth
of Cytherea's charms.

May she who lifts opprobrious brows
to censure me
lie cursed between the stale sheets of
paupered monogamy.