Classic Poem

Now I remember Guinever the queen
And Launcelot whose love was a despair.
Young Tristan's passion " for Iseult the Fair,
Elaine the good, and Doette the serene.
But oh, to look into your eyes of green
Is to see Lais langorous in her lair,
Phryne's pale lovers tangled in your hair,
Mad for her mouth while on your lips they lean.

All the perilous beauty I have known
Or glimpsed in volumes of a high romance
Move in your shadow, quicken in your glance,
Plead through your body, languish, and make moan,
And stretch out hands for love of lover lost
On the blue waves of the Aegean tossed.