Poem # 61

my mistress

my mistress’ eyes are changing

like the phases of the moon

her hair, long and golden,

lays like fine spun silk

my mistress’ lips are yielding, wet

when bless me with their kiss

her hands are firm yet gentle

when they hold my own in hers

my mistress’ breasts are soft and full

when I press my head to them

her hips are wide and feminine

when my own they close embrace

my mistress’ scent is sweet as wine

as I taste her supple skin

her love intoxicating

when she pull me deep within

our love affair reflects my own

hot and cold, then hot again

yet greater passion I have not felt

my mistress’ name is Art

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He said, "Why should I tarry?"

And smiled with tranquil eye;

"In destinies sad or merry,

True men can but try."

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

(Lines 562-565)