“I must not stoop and take my ease,
Or touch the body lithe and thin.
Bright body of the myriad smiles,
Sweet serpent of the lower life,
The smooth silk touch of thee defiles,
The lures and languors of a wife.
Slip to the floor, I must not turn:
There is a lion in the way!
The star of morning rise and burn:
I seek the dim supernal day!” [via]