The Vine
By Robert Herrick
I dreamed this mortal part of mine
Was metamorphosed to a vine,
Which, crawling one and every way,
Enthralled my dainty Lucia.
Methought, her long small legs and thighs
I with my tendrils did surprise:
Her belley, buttocks, and her waist
By my soft nervelets were embraced
About her head I writhing hung
And with rich clusters (hid Amoung
The leaves) her temples i behung,
So that my Lucia seemed to me
Young Bacchus ravished by his tree.
My curls about her neck did crawl,
And arms and hands they did enthrall,
So that she could not freely stir
( All parts there made one prisoner).
But when I crept with leaves to hide
Those parts which maids keep unespied,
Such fleeting pleasures there I took
That with the fancy i awoke,
And found (ah me!) this flesh of mine
More like a stock than like a vine.
6 comments:
Enjoyed that and loved the graphics
http://journals.aol.co.uk/jeanno43/JeannettesJottings/
Beautiful.
Missie
O this is exactly the prose I picture you'd enjoy. xoxo CATHY
Very nice Rosemary. Thanks for the share.
Hugs, Joyce
Aye...the picture does the prose a world of justice. Isn't that but like a man to think in visions of lust(winks)...(Hugs)Indigo
lovely poem rosemary. the pictures are beautiful too. thanks for sharing. take care mrs t xx
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