Two Poems of Louis Untermeyer

Like some young flower, cool and white
        With the stars' kiss still on its brow,
You shine through my heart's dusk, and light
        The dark concern that gathers now.

Half on my lips, a fearful hope
        Starts like a prayer, already planned.
Toward your bright head my fingers grope...
        But something holds my hand.

Prayers are not what you want. I see
        That, when all other beauty fails,
You will not alter, you will be
        So white and young -- and hard as nails.

The poet stood reciting
        Examples of his art,
Considering removing
        The veils about his heart.

Eager and self-revealing,
        He did his stripping well,
With every burning poem
        Another garment fell.

With passionate abandon
        He flung each cloth away;
Exulting in the pleasure
        Of noble self-display.

Until upon the platform
        Were piled his draperies.
And still the poet gestured,
        Naked and quite at ease.

And no one screamed or fainted;
        There was no stir or start.
The ladies all applauded
        At such a show of art.