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!*****

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