Poem by Elinor Wylie

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I have believed that I prefer to live
Preoccupied by a Platonic mind;
I have believed me obdurate and blind
To those sharp ecstasies the pulses give:
The clever body five times sensitive
I never have discovered to be kind
As the poor soul, deceived and half-divined,
Whose hopes are water in a witch's sieve.

O now both soul and body are unfit
To apprehend this miracle, my lord!
Not all my senses, striving in accord
With my pure essence, are aware of it
Save as a power remote and exquisite,
Not seen or known, but fervently adored.

1. Would I Might Make Subliminal My Flesh
2. Now Am I Orson to Your Valentine
3. Now Shall the Long Homesickness Have an End
4. Children and Dogs Are Subject to My Power
5. The Pekingese

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