by: Richard Le Gallienne
- OOR pulses
ready still to beat
- At any sound of Love's light feet,
- Poor hungry heart too young to learn
- Youth is no more, poor eyes that burn
- Still on the women in the street.
- O print-clad damsel, fresh and fair,
- Bending above the threshold there
- On supple knees and swaying line,
- And honeyed curve--dear maid, be mine.
- For O, I know about thy neck
- Hide silver globes without a fleck,
- About thy soft and odorous waist
- I know what other joys are placed,
- And those strong limbs that make a lap
- As soft as down,--ah blessed hap
- To lie therein; these round arms bare,
- How strongly would you draw me there.
- O how you make my blood a song,
- And how this foolish heart will long,
- And even brain will have its dream--
- Ah there, far up the street a gleam
- Turns like a wing, it is her hand,
- She kisses it--we understand.
MORE POEMS BY RICHARD LE GALLIENNE
"The Housemaid" is reprinted
from Poetica Erotica. Ed. T.R. Smith. New York: Crown