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Beauty is a Dangerous Thing


Solomon Machardson

Beauty is a dangerous thing:

It is like a flower

That attracts stinging bees and wasps

To steal its pollen.

It awakens the animal in men,

Assails the blood in their veins,

Haunts their imagination

And obsesses their dreams!

It weaves a passionate desire

In every heart it encounters!

At its sight man flings away

The present love he cherishes!

When Beauty lifts her little finger

In salutation to man,

His heart undergoes such raptures

That it seems to break with pride!

A stream of sweet harmony

Flows through him

And his adoration of her

Takes wings inside him!

He becomes restless and crafty;

He casts secret looks at her;

He longs for a share of her

And he conspires to get her!

Day and night, his urges

Disguised as his love for her,

Pour themselves so ceaselessly

That he gets drunk with them!

When he has cornered her alone

And his wooing words have borne no fruits

His animal instinct takes over:

He purrs like an overfed cat.

With threats of dire consequences.

The poor Beauty struggles in vain

To wriggle out of his embrace!

At last she yields to be shared.

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