We cannot fathom his mysterious head, Through the veiled eyes no flickering ray is sent: But from his torso gleaming light is shed As from a candelabrum; inward bent His glance there glows and lingers. Otherwise The round breast would not blind you with its grace, Nor could the soft-curved circle of the thighs Steal to the arc whence issues a new race. Nor could this stark and stunted stone display Vibrance beneath the shoulders heavy bar, Nor shine like fur upon a beast of prey, Nor break forth from its lines like a great star— There is no spot that does not bind you fast And transport you back, back to a far past.
