Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/152

 Like this? (The Steel is singing to me now, Still hidden in my breast—a low sweet song.)

Ah, this time there is no doubt! 'tis all true: Her arms may fold me—fondle me, and I May wholly yield myself to their caress Quite sure it leaves no atom in reserve For any other after me. And lo, She is right worthy of a greater one Than all the lovers that have ever loved And, trembling, lost their women and themselves: For splendour—such as stains for me and turns My eyes disgusted from the vaunted white Of many a bosom impudently bared— Is in that bosom closely veiled, whose veils I may undo—yea now, and with these hands; It is my right. And then, O joy, to know That this, so much more wonderful than those, Shall ne'er be seen by anyone but me! (Ah, sing on little voice!) But, as I said, —Yes, she is worthy!—Come to me, my Sweet: You have the greatest beauty God has made.