LXXV.

Those movements, those improvements in our bodies

Which make all bodies anxious to get out

Of their own sand-pits, to mix with a goddess,

For such all women are at first no doubt. How beautiful that moment! and how odd is

That fever which precedes the languid rout

Of our sensations! What a curious way

The whole thing is of clothing souls in clay! 

Share on Twitter Share on Facebook