My lady's senses are so pure and fine,She takes small pleasure in the close embraceThat love and nature in me coarsely traceAs the great end to which all hearts incline.Her tender pity shames this heat of mine,That bows her soul unto a lowly place,To meet the cravings of my abject race,With yielding smiles and patience all divine.So much she suffers for her dear love's sake,So much forgives, so calmly puts asideHer own distaste, her stately virgin pride;And all for me, who like a satyr slakeMy brutish thirst within a crystal tide,And stain it with the dusty stir I make!
- POEMS
- QUOTES
- POETS
- Movement - group - philosophy
- Academy Francaise [58]
- Chinese dynasties [103]
- Classicism [111]
- Didactical [48]
- Existentialism [10]
- Expressionism [5]
- Feminism [65]
- Generation of 27 [3]
- Harlem renaissance [13]
- Metaphysical [14]
- Modernism, Realism [60]
- Moralism [10]
- Naturalism [96]
- New formalism [5]
- Other [2116]
- Parnassianism [8]
- Political [448]
- Prevalent form [203]
- Romanticism [136]
- Surrealism, dadaism, absurdism [21]
- Symbolism [54]
- The Movement [13]
- Theology [380]
- Transcendentalism [11]
- Native Language
- Albanian [28]
- Arabic [53]
- Bangla [46]
- Bulgarian [0]
- Chinese [118]
- Croatian [0]
- Czech [4]
- Danish [83]
- Dutch [21]
- English [2190]
- Finnish [9]
- French [413]
- Gaulish [2]
- German [130]
- Greek [98]
- Hebrew [18]
- Hindi [326]
- Hungarian [8]
- Indonesian [1]
- Italian [44]
- Japan [14]
- Latin [17]
- Polish [20]
- Portugese [23]
- Romanian [22]
- Russian [59]
- Slovak [0]
- Slovenian [11]
- Spanish [90]
- Swedish [14]
- Urdu [122]
- MEMBERS
LXX
written byBoker George Henry
© Boker George Henry
