Of luscious lips, soft cheeks and glancing eyes,
The violet breath—the press of warm, soft hands,
Or the crisp frettle of disordered hair,
That wooed your flaming cheek, as, half ashamed,
The maiden nestled, blushing, on your breast—
And yet you plead your vows! Like some I know
Who pray for mankind in the aggregate,
And damn them all in detail!
Faus.Tempt me not.
I left the world of women for these walls,