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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408284" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Campaspe</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Turn from the ways of this Woman! Campaspe we call her by name -<br>She is fairer than flowers of the fire -<br>she is brighter than brightness of flame.<br>As a song that strikes swift to the heart<br>with the beat of the blood of the South,<br>And a light and a leap and a smart, is the play of her perilous mouth.<br>Her eyes are as splendours that break in the rain at the set of the sun,<br>But turn from the steps of Campaspe - a Woman to look at and shun!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dost thou know of the cunning of Beauty? Take heed to thyself and beware<br>Of the trap in the droop in the raiment - the snare in the folds of the hair!<br>She is fulgent in flashes of pearl, the breeze with her breathing is sweet,<br>But fly from the face of the girl - there is death in the fall of her feet!<br>Is she maiden or marvel of marble? Oh, rather a tigress at wait<br>To pounce on thy soul for her pastime - a leopard for love or for hate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Woman of shadow and furnace! She biteth her lips to restrain<br>Speech that springs out when she sleepeth,<br>by the stirs and the starts of her pain.<br>As music half-shapen of sorrow, with its wants and its infinite wail,<br>Is the voice of Campaspe, the beauty at bay with her passion dead-pale.<br>Go out from the courts of her loving, nor tempt the fierce dance of desire<br>Where thy life would be shrivelled like stubble<br>in the stress and the fervour of fire!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know of one, gentle as moonlight - she is sad as the shine of the moon,<br>But touching the ways of her eyes are: she comes to my soul like a tune -<br>Like a tune that is filled with faint voices<br>of the loved and the lost and the lone,<br>Doth this stranger abide with my silence: like a tune with a tremulous tone.<br>The leopard, we call her, Campaspe! I pluck at a rose and I stir<br>To think of this sweet-hearted maiden - what name is too tender for her?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Kendall">Henry Kendall</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408284" data-title="Campaspe de Henry Kendall" data-description="Turn from the ways of this Woman! Campaspe we call her by name -
She is fairer than flowers of the fire -
she is brighter than brightness of flame.
As a song that strikes swift to the heart
with the beat of the blood of the South,
And a light and ..."></div>
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