60 
ODE TO VENUS CALLIPYGE 
 
O thy dark daughter !  their breasts are slack, 
Their lips so large and as poppies red ; 
They lie in a furious barren bed ; 
They lie on their faces, their eyelids lack 
Tears, and their cheeks are as roses dead ; 
White are their throats, but upon the back 
Red blood is clotted in gouts of black. 
 
All on their sides are the wounds of lust, 
Down, from the home of their auburn hair 
Down to the feet that we find so fair ; 
Where the red sword has a secret thrust 
Pain, and delight, and desire they share. 
Verily, pain !  and thy daughters trust 
Thou canst bid roses spring out of dust. 
 
Mingle, ye children of such a queen, 
Mingle, and meet, and sow never a seed ! 
Mingle, and tingle, and kiss, and bleed 
With the blood of the life of the Lampsacene, 
With the teeth that know never a pitiful deed 
But fret and foam over with kisses obscene— 
Mingle and weep for what years have been.