You've slipped from out your evening gown, you muse
Before the polished lookingglass, a hand
Unclasping frail corsage, while you peruse
Your blushing charms. Your wayward eyes demand
Intrigue, as slowly you remove the clothes
Which cling around your girlish loveliness.
In silken stockings of the palest rose
Your slender legs encased, twin gracefulness
Beyond compare, while all your perfumed hair
Comes tumbling down and glorybath of gold ;
And thus you stand before me ivorybare
Craving to yield in passion as of old.
I take you in my arms yet am I sad,
So many other loves have made you glad
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Comments about this poem (Dissonance by Harry Crosby )
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