Posthumous Poems/"Ah, Face and Hands and Body Beautiful"
SONNET
Ah, face and hands and body beautiful,
Fair tender body, for my body's sake
Are you made faultless without stain or break.
Locks close as weed in river-water cool,
A purer throat and softer than white wool,
Eyes where sleep always seems about to wake.
No dead man's flesh but feels the strong sweet ache,
And that sharp amorous watch the years annul,
If his grave's grass have felt you anywhere.
Rain and the summer shadow of the rain
Are not so gentle to the generous year
As your soft rapid kisses are to men,
Felt here about my face, yea here and here,
Caught on my lips and thrown you back again.
Fair tender body, for my body's sake
Are you made faultless without stain or break.
Locks close as weed in river-water cool,
A purer throat and softer than white wool,
Eyes where sleep always seems about to wake.
No dead man's flesh but feels the strong sweet ache,
And that sharp amorous watch the years annul,
If his grave's grass have felt you anywhere.
Rain and the summer shadow of the rain
Are not so gentle to the generous year
As your soft rapid kisses are to men,
Felt here about my face, yea here and here,
Caught on my lips and thrown you back again.