"Woman! When I Behold Thee Flippant, Vain"
John Keats (1795-1821)



Woman! when I behold thee flippant, vain
Inconstant, childish, proud, and full of fancies
Without that modest softening that enhances
The downcast eye, repentant of the pain
That its mild light creates to heal again
E'en then, elate, my spirit leaps, and prances
E'en then my soul with exultation dances
For that to love, so long, I've dormant lain
But when I see thee meek, and kind, and tender
Heavens! how desperately do I adore
Thy winning graces - to be thy defender
I hotly burn - to be a Calidore -
A very Red Cross Knight - a stout Leander -
Might I be loved by thee like these of yore

Light feet, dark violet eyes, and parted hair
Soft dimpled hands, white neck, and creamy breast
Are things on which the dazzled senses rest
Till the fond, fixed eyes, forget they stare
From such fine pictures, heavens! I cannot dare
To turn my admiration, though unpossess'd
They be of what is worthy, - though not drest
In lovely modesty, and virtues rare
Yet these I leave as thoughtless as a lark
These lures I straight forget - e'en ere I dine
Or thrice my palate moisten: but when I mark
Such charms with mild intelligences shine
My ear is open like a greedy shark
To catch the tunings of a voice divine

Ah! who can e'er forget so fair a being
Who can forget her half retiring sweets
God! she is like a milk-white lamb that bleats
For man's protection. Surely the All-seeing
Who joys to see us with his gifts agreeing
Will never give him pinions, who intreats
Such innocence to ruin, - who vilely cheats
A dove-like bosom. In truth there is no freeing
One's thoughts from such a beauty; when I hear
A lay that once I saw her hand awake
Her form seems floating palpable, and near
Had I e'er seen her from an arbour take
A dewy flower, oft would that hand appear
And o'er my eyes the trembling moisture shake



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11/30/14 10:50