'Venus Verticordia'
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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She hath the apple in her hand for thee,
Yet almost in her heart would hold it
back;
She muses, with her eyes upon the track
Of that which in thy spirit they can
see.
Haply, "Behold, he is at peace," saith
she;
"Alas! the apple for his lips, -
the dart
That follows its brief sweetness to
his heart, -
The wandering of his feet perpetually!"
A little space her glance is still and
coy,
But if she give the fruit that works
her spell,
Those eyes shall flame as for her Phrygian
boy.
Then shall her bird's strained throat
the woe foretell,
And her far seas moan as a single shell,
And through her dark grove strike the
light of Troy.
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