BORNE ON THE BLUE AEGEAN
An anonymous poem
- LOWN, all
alone, o'er the watery miles;
- Lost, I was tossed on those grape-laden isles,
- Where, passing fair in her dimpling smiles,
- Played a sweet maid in the waters so bright;
- Chilled, yet I thrilled at the ravishing sight;
- Sped to her, fled to her, wild with delight.
- Soft, from aloft, sweet Cytherea sings;
- Dove-drawn, the love goddess artfully flings
- Spells, as she tells of the rapture she brings.
- Clear, to my ear, comes her whispering low--
- Lure the demure, as she rocks to and fro.
- Wicked her liquid and musical flow.
- Mark the soft, dark eyes that languish for you;
- Sleeps in their deeps a rich violet hue;
- Skies from her eyes catch their heavenly blue.
- Down from her crown, tresses, fold upon fold,
- Curled and impearled with their jewels untold,
- Fall and enthrall with their glittering gold.
- Coy, my dear boy, is a maid in repose;
- Wile, with a smile, and her low laughter flows;
- Speak and her cheek all incarnadine grows.
- Seek in that cheek for the dimples that hide
- Quite from the sight; then a moment descried,
- Fly from your eye, half confessed, half denied.
- Spring to her, cling to her, pearl of the sea;
- Flushing and blushing, she beckons to thee;
- Chase her, embrace her, the gift is from me.
- Lave in the wave, with its foam-crested curl;
- Toy, dearest boy, with an ocean-born girl;
- Sip from her lip, decked with coral and pearl.
- Press her, caress her; that billowy breast
- Swells, and foretells in a sigh half suppressed,
- Bliss in the kiss which you mutely request.
- Gloat, as you float with her; banish alarms;
- Wound in the round of her passionate arms.
- Praise, as you gaze on her ravishing charms.
- Reel with her, feel where the gossamer lace
- Robes the white globes scarcely more than the place
- Where the soft hair curls in exquisite grace.
- Play with her, sway with her, loosen her zone;
- Dare to lay bare her full bosom; your own
- Warms for her, storms for her--she is alone.
- White, on the height of her velvety breast,
- Billow-like pillows, where Cupid might rest,
- Heave, to receive your warm lips to them pressed.
- Crowned is each mound by a rich scarlet stud;
- Lips to their tips, taste each roseate bud,
- Dyed by the tide of her heart's richest blood.
- Down with her, drown her sweet, murmuring cries;
- Steal low and feel, near her plump rounded thighs,
- Moss fine as floss, half concealing the prize
- Left like the cleft in the peach's ripe side,
- Pink as the brink of a sea shell is dyed--
- Out, see it pout, as its lips open wide.
- Holds, in its folds, the small clitoral bud;
- Thrills as it fills with her riotous blood;
- Peeps from the deeps like a bright ruby stud.
- Clip with the tongue tip the small sensitive flower;
- Grip with the lip as it slips from its bower;
- Turn, feel it burn with her passion's full power.
- Prone, with a moan of expectant delight,
- Lies the sweet prize, too enraptured for fright;
- Warm glows her form, there upheaved in your sight.
- Swing forth the lingam, in passionate sweep;
- Thrust, in your lust, to the uttermost deep;
- Dart to her heart, in your masculine leap.
"Borne on the Blue Aegean"
is reprinted from Poetica Erotica. Ed. T.R. Smith. New
York: Crown Publishers, 1921.