D.H. Lawrence (1885–1930). Amores. 1916.
1. Tease
I
You shall be my châtelaine,
You shall enter as you please,
As you please shall go again.
All the chambers of my soul,
How I sit and laugh at you
In your vain housekeeping rôle.
Angry at the simpler door;
Well, you anxious, inquisitive lover,
Are you pleased with what’s in store?
Have you not, most curiously,
Handled all my tools and measures
And masculine machinery?
You have had your little rapture;
You have slain, as was your duty,
Every sin-mouse you could capture.
Still you tremble faint reproach;
Challenge me I keep aside
Secrets that you may not broach.
Maybe there are secret places,
Altars barbarous below,
Elsewhere halls of high disgraces.
You may have it as you please,
Since I choose to keep you so,
Suppliant on your curious knees.