Classic Poem

I could take the hand of all Jews
As fathers of beautiful daughters
O the ancient girls
young
ripe
With the rounded suave luster
of dark red wine
In a fullbellied glass
Their shoulders
pale
smooth
leaves
Swaying
on
limber
branches
Their knees
vowels in an alphabet
of beauty
the
Literature of which is read
in the motions
of their limbs...
A Jewess is never
too fat
if
She is young
Would you complain
of trees
bulging
with blossoms
Or put
a curse
on the wind
FOR FAITENING A SAIL