The Collected Poetry

On Venus

On Venus

You were not born in coarse thunder,

But rose from the soft splash of foam.

In perfect form you ever were,

Escorted by angels of ardor,

Unto your perfect island home

And enjoyed every known pleasure.

You adorned your hair with a comb,

And enticed the dull men of Rome,

Yet only stirred your heart at leisure.

Teasing unto your heart’s content;

Moving in low sultry measure.

You hid from lovers your treasure.

Your love would have felt heaven-sent,

Had you not denied the wonder,

Of heart struck love, from which I went

From your lover to a discontent.