These caressed him: Her hand out of the shadow When the black god whispered, "Beauty's to be taken." And he fought back: "Beauty is freest when treasured Only as a song is treasured; Beauty must give itself to be possessed -- Beauty taken is beauty lost." Her hand then, and now Memory of her throat of music Murmuring him to tranquil fields Where bleak roots blossom . . . "And where," he wondered sadly, "Together some day we shall close ears To the black gods? Close ears and ourselves be Beauty?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEMORIAL TO D.C.: 2. PRAYER TO PERSEPHONE by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY PHILOSOPHY by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS A WOMAN'S ANSWER TO THE VAMPIRE by FELICIA BLAKE THE PRIDE OF WESTMORELAND by GORDON BOTTOMLEY WHAT'S IN A NAME by BERTON BRALEY LEARNING TO PLAY by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN THE RING AND THE BOOK: BOOK 4. TERTIUM QUID by ROBERT BROWNING |