The Way of the World, 1958

It has taken me long, Lygdamus,to learn that humans, barringa few saints, are degenerateor senselessThe senseless ones are never by designevil; but get in your waylike the ugly stumps of trees; orderbad taste or out of boredomstart long warswhere one’s counted onto dredge up manliness, fortitude, and valourfor their stupefactions.But wicked are the clever ones.Cultured and adeptthey will seduce a friend’s dear onewith praises of her husband on their lips.As for the wifea little alcohol parts her thighs.Do not blame her: her husband’s nameon the seducer’s lipsmakes 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 globesbefore my eyes cross-eyed with lust;though my legs are bandythe heart’s stoutand this provocative member smooth and unwrinkled.Till the morning parts us, I’ll lie beside youyour nipple at my tired mouthand one hand of mineon your black curling fleece.