I grew upon, thy curling hip,
With a lash, to a petulant visage,
And thou, drew me near,
To hear the sighs, and the fears,
And the never ending, quake,
Of thy, roaring heart.
A vein, and a dynasty,
A cruel blight, and a fantasy,
A death, and an illusion,
Was all it took, to flee,
For thou to flee, from my side,
So that thou, would find safety.
I found among, your puling face,
Two cheeks of butter, and lips of wine,
Two ears of honey, and eyes of lime.
I found also among, your gracious form,
Two hips that curled, like teakettle handles,
And two legs, like steeples of white.
I found to your face, of beauty,
The newest form, of tragedy,
When you fled, to see the world’s end,
And saw, my creation imagined.
You saw, with open eyes,
The deaths, that were many.
I made the world as grand, as thy temples, and hips,
And thy hips, had curved, just as broad, as that world.