Page:The Yellow Book - 03.djvu/131

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By Theodore Wratislaw
111
Here in the babbling room agleamWith scarlet lips and naked armsAnd such rich jewels as beseemThe painted damzel's charms,
Even now your tired and subtle faceBears record to the wondrous timeWhen from your limbs' lascivious graceSprang forth your splendid crime.
And though none deem it true, of thoseWho watch you in our banal ageLike some stray fairy glide and poseUpon a London stage,
Yet I to whom your frail capriceTurns for the moment ardent eyesHave seen the strength of love releaseYour sleeping memories.
I too am servant to your glance,I too am bent beneath your sway,My wonder! My desire! who danceMen's heads and hearts away.
Sweet arbitress of love and death,Unchanging on time's changing sands,You hold more lightly than a breathThe world between your hands!
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