KISS XII.
Modest matrons, maidens, say,
Why thus turn your looks away?
Frolic feats of lawless love,
Of the lustful powers above,
Forms obscene that shock the sight,
In my verse I ne’er recite,—
Verse where naught indecent reigns;
Guiltless are my tender strains,
Such as pedagogues austere
Might with strict decorum hear,
Might, with no licentious speech,
To their youth reproachless teach.
I, chaste votary of the Nine,
Kisses sing of chaste design.
Maids and matrons yet, with rage,
Frown upon my blameless page,—
Frown, because some wanton word
Here and there by chance occurred,
Or the cheated fancy caught
Some obscure though harmless thought.
Hence, ye prudish matrons! hence,
Squeamish maids devoid of sense!
And shall these in virtue dare
With my virtuous maid compare,—
She who in the bard will prize
What she’ll in his lays despise?
Wantonness with love agrees,
But reserve in verse must please.
