THE MERRY LITTLE MAID AND WICKED LITTLE MONK
An anonymous poem
- OOD father,
I have sent for you because
- I would not tamper with the holy laws,
- And yet, I know that something is amiss,
- For when I see the youths and maidens kiss,
- I tremble and my very knees grow weak
- Until my chamber I am forced to seek
- And there, with cheeks aflame, in floods of tears,
- I toss with strangely mingled hopes and fears.
- And, father, strange to say, throughout the night,
- Although my figure, as you see, is slight,
- I dream I have a ripe, voluptuous form,
- And strong arms, 'round me, hold me close and warm,
- Until at last, at last, I blush to say,
- My very garments seem to melt away,
- Until, as nature clad me, there I stand,
- The willing victim to a wandering hand.
- And at these times, when I seem not alone,
- The form that holds me is not like my own.
- It has not swelling globes, here, such as these,
- No sloping thighs nor rounded, dimpled knees,
- And stranger still--pray, father, dear, draw near,
- The greatest difference seems to be--just--here.
- Dear father, should I pray and fast, in pain?
- Or sleep and dream those blissful dreams again?
- It seems not sin and yet my mirror shows
- A face where shame and deepest color glows.
- Tell me, it is not wicked, father, dear.
- To find myself with new sensations, here.
- Ah! heaven! you burn, with fever too, it seems.
- Are you, as well, a prey to fitful dreams?
- And once I dreamed far more than I have told.
- This handsome stranger once was overbold,
- And I will show thee, father, if I may,
- Just what was done. I could not but obey.
- The sun had set. The stars were in the sky,
- And I was trembling, though I knew not why
- And here upon this couch, I lay, like this,
- When on my lips I felt a burning kiss.
- Yes! that is like it! Just the very same!!!
- My arms reached upward. I was not to blame.
- For all my soul seemed hungering to feel
- The strange delight that made my senses reel.
- It seemed so strange that pleasure should be pain
- And yet I fain would suffer, once again.
- 'T was thus--and so--and ever did I strain
- To meet, half way, the source of all my pain.
- My voice came, fitful--broken--just as now--
- I was not mistress of myself, I vow!--
- I clasped the spirit visitor like this--
- Through all my veins, I felt his maddening kiss.
- My pulse went wild--I knew not what was done--
- And--goodness gracious!*****
"The Merry Little Maid and
Wicked Little Monk" is reprinted from Poetica Erotica.
Ed. T.R. Smith. New York: Crown Publishers, 1921.