Lo by the “humpy” door a smockless Venus!
Unblushing bronze, she shrinks not, having seen us,
Though there is nought but short couch-grass between us.
She hath no polonaise, no Dolly Varden;
Yet turns she not away, nor asketh pardon;
Fact is, she doesn’t care a copper “farden.”
Ah yet, her age her reputation spareth;
At three years old pert Venus little careth,
She puts her hand upon her hip and stareth;
All unabashed, unhaberdashed, unheeding,
No Medicean, charmingly receding,
But quite unconscious of improper breeding.
‘Tis well; it smacks of Eden ere came sin in,
Or any rag of consciousness or linen,
Or anything that one could stick a pin in.
Could boundaries be neater? posture meeter?
Could bronze antique or terra cotta beat her?
Saw ever artist any thing completer?
A shade protuberant, beyond contesting,
Where this day’s ‘possum is just now digesting,
But otherwise, all over interesting;
Trim without trimming, furbelow, or bow on;
Was ever sable skin with such a glow on?
So darkly soft, so softly sleek, and-so on?
Was ever known so dark, so bright an iris,
Where sleep of light, but never play of fire is-
Where not a soup
(James Brunton Stephens)
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Based on Topics: Light Poems, Fire Poems, Facts PoemsBased on Keywords: careth, smacks, completer, unblushing, humpy, meeter, neater, digesting, spareth, farden, furbelow