Addenda to the Poems93
The Song of Songs
Fair woman’s body is a song
Inscribed by our great Maker
In Nature’s mighty album erst,
When moved to life to wake her.
Ah yes! propitious was the hour
When thus he show’d compassion!
The coy rebellious stuff he work’d
In true artistic fashion.
Yes, woman’s body is, ’mongst songs,
The song most sweet and tender,
And wondrous strophes are her limbs,
So snowy-white and slender.
And then her neck, her glistening neck,—
O what a godlike notion!—
Where the main thought, her little head,
Rocks with a graceful motion.
Like polish’d epigrams one loves
Her bosom’s rosebuds dearly;
Enchanting the cæsura is
That parts her breasts severely.
The song has flesh, ribs, hands, and feet,
No abstract poem this is!
With lips that rhyme deliciously
It smiles and sweetly kisses.
True poetry is breathing here,
Grace shines in each direction;
The song upon its forehead bears
The stamp of all perfection.
I’ll praise thee, Lord, and in the dust
Will humbly kneel to show it;
Bunglers are we, compared with thee,
Thou glorious heavenly Poet.
Before the splendour of thy song
I’ll bow in adoration,
And to its study day and night
Pay closest application.
Yes, day and night I’ll study it,
No loss of time admitting;
So shall I soon with overwork
Be thinner than befitting.