SONG OF MEN
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ow beautiful are the bodies of men--The agonists!Their hearts beat deep as a brazen gongFor their strength's behests.Their arms are lithe as a seasoned thongIn games or testsWhen they run or box or swim the longSea-waves crestsWith their slender legs, and their hips so strong,And their rounded chests. I know a youth who raises his armsOver his head.He laughs and stretches and flouts alarmsOf flood or fire.He springs renewed from a lusty bedTo his youth's desire.He drowses, for April flames outspreadIn his soul's attire. The strength of men is for husbandryOf woman's flesh:Worker, soldier, magistrateOf city or realm;Artist, builder, wrestling FateLest it overwhelmThe brood or the race, or the cherished state.They sing at the helmWhen the waters roar and the waves are great,And the gale is fresh. There are two miracles, women and men--Yea, four there be:A woman's flesh, and the strength of a man,And God's decree.And a babe from the womb in a little spanEre the month be ten.Their rapturous arms entwine and clingIn the depths of night;He hunts for her face for his wondering,And her eyes are bright.A woman's flesh is soil, but the springIs man's delight.
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