Louis Untermeyer

BEAUTY shall not lead me—

No, on no more passionate and never-ending quests.

I am tired of stumbling after her

Through wild, familiar forests and strange morasses—

Tired of breaking my heart and losing my sleep, following a fitful gleam.

Beauty, you shall fly before me no longer—

Smiling, looking back over your shoulder with beckoning blushes—

Wanton, trickster, trifler with weak men;

Demanding all and giving nothing in return

But furious dreams and shattering visions.

Beauty, I shall have you—

Not in imagination only, but in the flesh.

You will pursue me with untiring breath, you will press by my side wherever I go.

Even in the muddy squalor and the thick welter of ugliness,

You shall run to me and put your arms about my hips, and cling to me;

And, try as I will, you will never be shaken off.

Beauty, I know you now—

And knowing (and loving) you, I will thirst for you no longer …

Yes, I shall have you—

For I shall run on recklessly

And you will follow after!