The Quiet Glades of Eden
All such proclivities are tabulated -
By trained pathologists, in detail too -
The obscener parts of speech compulsively
Shrouded in Classic Latin.
But though my pleasure in your feet and hair
Is ungainsayable, let me protest
(Dear love) I am no trichomaniac
And no foot-fetichist.
If it should please you, for your own best reasons,
To take and flog me with a rawhide whip,
I might (who knows?) surprisedly accept
This earnest of affection.
Nothing, agreed, is alien to love
When pure desire has overflowed its baulks;
But why must private sportiveness be viewed
Through public spectacles?
Enough, I will not claim my heart unfluttered
By these case-histories of abberancy;
Nevertheless a long cool drought of water,
Or a long swim in the bay
Serves to restore my wholesome appetite
For you and what we do at night together:
Which is no more than Adam did with Eve
In the quiet glades of Eden.
Robert Graves