IVORY AND ROSE

by: Louis Untermeyer (1885-1977)

      ERE in this moonlit room, I watch you slip
      One shoulder from your dress and turn to me;
      A polished statue, flushing to the tip
      Of marble fingers gradually.
       
      And, like a ripe moon out of flimsy clouds,
      Blossoms the shining fulness of your breast.
      These curves conceal, this dear perfection shrouds
      A soft, miraculous nest.
       
      Your ivory body pulses as the white
      Flesh catches flame and rosy tremblings move
      Over this sanctuary of delight,
      The last asylum of our love.

"Ivory and Rose" is reprinted from The New Adam. Louis Untermeyer. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1920.

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