<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=532677" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Genesis</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was but a half-grown boy, <br>You were a girl-child slight. <br>Ah, how weary you were! <br>You had led in the bullock-fight... <br>We slew the bullock at length <br>With knives and maces of stone. <br>And so your feet were torn, <br>Your lean arms bruised to the bone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Perhaps 'twas the slain beast's blood <br>We drank, or a root we ate, <br>Or our reveling evening bath <br>In the fall by the garden gate, <br>But you turned to a witching thing, <br>Side-glancing, and frightened me; <br>You purred like a panther's cub, <br>You sighed like a shell from the sea. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We knelt. I caressed your hair <br>By the light of the leaping fire: <br>Your fierce eyes blinked with smoke, <br>Pine-fumes, that enhanced desire. <br>I helped to unbraid your hair <br>In wonder and fear profound: <br>You were humming your hunting tune <br>As it swept to the grassy ground. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our comrades, the shaggy bear, <br>The tiger with velvet feet, <br>The lion, crept to the light <br>Whining for bullock meat. <br>We fed them and stroked their necks... <br>They took their way to the fen <br>Where they hunted or hid all night; <br>No enemies, they, of men. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Evil had entered not <br>The cobra, since defiled. <br>He watched, when the beasts had gone <br>Our kissing and singing wild. <br>Beautiful friend he was, <br>Sage, not a tempter grim. <br>Many a year should pass <br>Ere Satan should enter him. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He danced while the evening dove <br>And the nightingale kept in tune. <br>I sang of the angel sun: <br>You sang of the angel-moon: <br>We sang of the angel-chief <br>Who blew thro' the trees strange breath, <br>Who helped in the hunt all day <br>And granted the bullock's death. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Eve with the fire-lit breast <br>And child-face red and white! <br>I heaped the great logs high! <br>That was our bridal night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Vachel+Lindsay">Vachel Lindsay</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=532677" data-title="Genesis de Vachel Lindsay" data-description="I was but a half-grown boy, You were a girl-child slight. Ah, how weary you were! You had led in the bullock-fight... We slew the bullock at length With knives and maces of stone. And so your feet were torn, Your lean arms bruised to the bo..."></div> </div> </div>

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