Richard Aldington (8 July 1892 – 27 July 1962 / Portsmouth, Hampshire)
Plus quan se atque suos amavit omnes,
You were my playmate by the sea.
We swam together.
Your girl's body had no breasts.
We found prawns among the rocks;
We liked to feel the sun and to do nothing;
In the evening we played games with the others.
It made me glad to be by you.
Sometimes I kissed you,
And you were always glad to kiss me;
But I was afraid - I was only fourteen.
And I had quite forgotten you,
You and your name.
To-day I pass through the streets.
She who touches my arms and talks with me
Is - who knows? - Helen of Sparta,
Dryope, Laodamia ...
And there are you
A whore in Oxford Street.
Comments about this poem (Daisy by Richard Aldington )
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