Fantasy in C minor

A Measure of Casualness

 

Too fierce the candlelight; your gentle voice

Roars as in a dream: my shoulder-nooks flower;

A scent of honeysuckle invades the house,

And my fingertips are so love-enhanced

That sailcloth feels like satin to them.

Teach me a measure of casualness

Though you stalk into my room like Venus naked.

 

Robert Graves

Done