John Rodker

BECAUSE some lover in some darkened place

Leaned brooding towards the face of his dear,

Till after a long silence her white face

Would droop towards him, and lip to lip

Half touching, fearful lest their senses slip

Bonds and whelm them in a clear

White flood of passion, they remain

Lips touching, yet apart, a fierce strain

On interlocking fingers—

Some poet wrote it down,

And that old story lingers,

Your only crown,

Lancelot, Abelard, Paolo and Pelléas:

To too many women have you brought undoing.

Too many women have been read

The stories of your fates,

And always when was said:

“… leaned brooding towards the face of his dear

Till after a long silence her white face

Would droop towards him, and lip to lip

Half touching … fearful lest their senses slip

Bonds and whelm them in a clear

White flood of passion they remain

Lips touching, yet apart … fierce strain

On interlocking fingers….”

Then leaning towards each other

On limb and separate feature the glance strays and lingers,

And, drooping each to other,

Half kiss, half droop apart

Under intolerable strain.

Too many lovers have you brought undoing:

Sick heart

And great pain.

You, Lancelot and Guinevere,

Paolo and Francesca;

You, Abelard, Heloise,

Pelléas and girl Mélisande,

And that first lover in some darkened place

Drooping to a white face.