Poems
The Way of the World, 1958
It has taken me long, Lygdamus, to learn that humans, barring a few saints, are degenerate or senseless The senseless ones are never by design evil; but get in your way like the ugly stumps of trees; order bad taste or out of boredomstart long wars where one's counted on to dredge up manliness, fortitude, and valour for their stupefactions. But wicked are the clever ones. Cultured and adept they will seduce a friend's dear one with praises of her husband on their lips. As for the wife a little alcohol parts her thighs. Do not blame her: her husband's name on the seducer's lips makes her the eagerer to satisfy, teaches her she lies with her very spouse. And that way is best: no pricks of inwit, but the novelty's stab of pleasure is there. Therefore give me only lovers. Come, my latest one, sloe-eyed, your firm breasts whirling like astonished globes before my eyes cross-eyed with lust; though my legs are bandy the heart's stout and this provocative member smooth and unwrinkled. Till the morning parts us, I'll lie beside you your nipple at my tired mouthand one hand of mine on your black curling fleece.