Here in this moonlit room, I watch you slip <br />One shoulder from your dress and turn to me; <br />A polished statue, flushing to the tip <br />Of marble fingers gradually. <br /> <br />And, like a ripe moon out of flimsy clouds, <br />Blossoms the shining fulness of your breast. <br />These curves conceal, this dear perfection shrouds <br />A soft, miraculous nest. <br /> <br />Your ivory body pulses as the white <br />Flesh catches flame and rosy tremblings move <br />Over this sanctuary of delight, <br />The last asylum of our love.<br /><br />Louis Untermeyer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ivory-and-rose/
