by: Arthur Symons (1865-1945)
- KNOW the woman has no soul, I
- The woman has no possibilities
- Of soul or mind or heart, but merely is
- The masterpiece of flesh: well, be it so.
- It is her flesh that I adore; I go
- Thirsting afresh to drain her empty kiss;
- I know she cannot love; 'tis not for this
- I rush to her embraces like a foe.
- Tyrannously I crave, I crave alone,
- Her body, now a silent instrument,
- That a my touch shall wake and make for me
- The strains that I have dreamed of, and not known;
- Her perfect body, Earth's most eloquent
- Music, the divine human harmony.
POEMS BY ARTHUR SYMONS
"Idealism" is reprinted
from Poetica Erotica. Ed. T.R. Smith. New York: Crown