The Collected Poetry

The Ballad of Pygmalion, A Comic Poem

The Ballad of Pygmalion, a Comic Poem

I’m going to need a goat, Sir
I’ll buy this one from you today
For I go to the church of Venus
To sacrifice without delay.

I’ll tell you now my story,
For your ears have pricked up at that!
Why should I just one day after,
her feast, go again thereat?

My name it is Pygmalion
My trade is sculptor in stone
And to all the world for many a year
My hatred was commonly known.

E’en yesteryear I did despise
each and every human
all mankind I did contemn
But especially the women!

Yes, not a single man
could I ever prefer
But only art, which perfect is
And became my center.

For art is pure and sacred to
Me, and never has
the rude sorts of interruptions
that people do, whereas.

So since I bought a studio
and was paid for my statues
I’ve locked away and cursed the day
I suffered men’s abuse.

And all this time remember you
had anyone ever tried
I’d no desire, in the least
to find myself a bride.

For nothing was so deplorable
to me in that sad state
as being tied in matrimony
to a wretched life’s mate.

Yet a man you may have heard of
a rich, and affluent man
commissioned me a strange request
I’d to build, “if I can”

‘twas to carve out a lady
perfect in every form
a Venus or a Hera
My patron me informed.

I got to work a-muttering
shaking my tired head
Why would no one understand
the horror of a woman’s bed?

I tried to make this beauty
conforming to his every wish
But hating myself more and more
I hated women less.

Not on all, indeed, did my mind change
But one, yes only one.
She I was making, it seemed to me
Was the greatest thing under the sun.

Her lily white skin and golden hair
and perfect face was without a doubt
The greatest thing I’d ever seen
And it drove some evil out.

I knew if she were to be mine
She’d never hurt or cheat
She’d not annoy me like so many
Or work me off my feat.

As time went on, and she grew near
I thought of her the more.
Her legs were done, such wondrous things!
I wondered what I had done!

Her arms were long and fair
sleek and slender was her body
beauty was her breasts
 I thought of her so greatly.

On the final day I wiped my brow
and laid down my chisel
Every stroke would be the worse
On this work of my toil.

I stared and stared, growing entranced
I felt the first of love
My angel was as good to me
As the gods should be above.

Every good thing should have to it a name
Like the fair queen Cassiopeia,
And with a hand on my angels hip
I declared her Galatea.

I stroked her lovely marble face
And kissed her stony cheeks
I wished that she had been alive
Or my future would be bleak.

And something broke within me
A stony soulless wall,
As it collapsed the flooding rushed,
And I felt love for all

For those that I had scorned
And forced to go away,
Suddenly I loved them,
Beginning on this day.

I rushed out from my dark room
Into the warm noon sun,
My cheek was pale, My face was thin
But things had to be done.

I rushed to my cousins house,
And knocked hard on his door
I told him I should have loved him,
And would love him evermore

I went to every house there,
In my little coastal street,
I humbled myself and blessed them,
In the middle of the summer heat.

And then I went to prayer
At Aphrodite’s house
In front of her golden alter
I asked her for a spouse.

I ashamedly asked my goddess
if she would be so kind
“Please bring to life my statue!
Make Galatea mine!”

Knowing it was her feast day
I waited on the floor
the cold stone seemed to sear me
I thought my dream was no more.

Than suddenly her fire
which burns by day and night
Leapt up and glowed even brighter
Till it was greater than my height.

Redder and redder the flame was
And then I heard a voice
“Go home, artist, and see there,
I have made my choice”

Opening my door, then,
Hopeful yet afraid,
I discovered alive and well
Galatea, my maid.

I touched her hand and found it
warm and at my touch,
She stepped forward and embraced me,
I loved her so much.

I found her lips warm too,
Her hair was soft and fine.
I told her that I loved her
I asked if she’d be mine.

Now Galatea and I are
the happiest in the world.
Will you sell that goat yet,
Now my story I’ve unfurled?