Rupert Atkinson

Melbourne Sonnets. 10. At the Drapers

LET Woman be his creed who would lament
This modern world of sensual luxury
It is her world! Like waves nursed by the sea
Men rise, and rage, and vanish; but, content.
She bears her children. Her sweet wonderment,
Bewitching men forever, makes them be
For her but as a mirthful tragedy.
Though she weeps, too, and seems as diffident.

Here Her chief joy lies I Let this place be kept.
Then, sacred to Her for Whose lovely sake

Men toil and squander with one will, no less,
To gladden Her with silk and lace, all swept.
Bejewelled, close round Her thrilling you — to make

More ravishing yet Her holy nakedness!