IDEALISM

by: Arthur Symons (1865-1945)

      KNOW the woman has no soul, I know
      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.

"Idealism" is reprinted from Poetica Erotica. Ed. T.R. Smith. New York: Crown Publishers, 1921.

MORE POEMS BY ARTHUR SYMONS

RELATED LINKS

BROWSE THE POETRY ARCHIVE:

[ A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z ]

Home · Poetry Store · Links · Email · © 2002 Poetry-Archive.com