Seduce Me

Thou art shrill of thy deepness; there is love in thine heart,
And all is more passionate with thee; both love and despair
Are elevated beyond passions into works of art,
And thy mouth works as though thou wert gasping in air.

An air of desperation, of charming innocence, about thee
Draws me in, and makes thee charming in spite of errors.
It is curiosity, and not spite, that makes thy words move me.
It is fascination that makes me seek my words' mirrors.

Ah, fascination. I would that thou couldst beckon and seduce
Me, that I would come at thy beck and thy call,
And become convinced that I truly did have something to lose,
And kneel to nothing with thee in room or in hall.

A haul of beauty I have trawled from thy ocean of words,
And I sit examining thy glittering weirds of strange wonder.
But I, for one, am more seduced by the song of bright birds
Singing in the gardens of art that no seduction lie under.