To fallen stars
(Of whom you told me in our last sweet talk,
Warning me of the dangers in my path)
I gave wide pity as you bade me to,
Saying their sins harked back to my base sex.
Now listen, mother mine: Ten years have passed
Since that clean-minded and pure-bodied youth,
Thinking to write his name upon the stars,
Went from your presence. He returns to you
Fallen from his altitude of thought,
Hiding deep scars of sins upon his soul,
His fair illusions shattered and destroyed.
And would you know the story of his fall?
He sat beside a good man's honoured wife
At her own table. She was beautiful
As woods in early autumn. Full of soft
And subtle witcheries of voice and look -
His senior, both in knowledge and in years.
The boyish admiration of his glance
Was white as April sunlight when it falls
Upon a blooming tree, until she leaned
So close her rounded body sent quick thrills
Along his nerves. He thought it accident,
And moved a little; soon she leaned again.
The half-hid beauties of her heaving breast
Rising and falling under scented lace,
The teasing tendrils of her fragrant hair,
With intermittent touches on his cheek,
Changed the boy's interest to a man's desire.
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