SHE draws all men to serve her, and her lure
Is her pulsating human loveliness—
The beauty of her bosom's rippling lines,
The passion pleading in her eyes, the pure
Soft contour of her cheek, her dainty dress,
With all the rich aroma of her warm
Glad womanhood perfumed, her supple form
Curving and swaying like a living flower,
Aflush with life and youth. These are the signs
By which she queens the hearts of men, the power
By which she makes her sovereignty secure!
But though her red lips mock me of their wine,
And that low laugh of hers fills me with fire,
As, spent with loving, in her scorn I lie;
Yet some day she will come to me and twine
Her slender arms about me; and desire
Will plead in those eyes that were all disdain,
And break her bosom with a sob of pain,
And her hot lips will lavish all their store
Of hungry kisses on me—then shall I
Remember all her queenly coldness, or
With kisses make her breathing beauty mine?