Pallas and the Centaur

Perhaps it was a strange choice

but it happened to be right.

She hasn't smiled once yet

though it's pressing on for night


And the others would be riding hell

For leather home for stag,

And their thighs would drape my haunches

'Till my blazing back might sag -


But they've been told they're beautiful

And only beauts they'll take

So they canter us and lame us

For some Lapith hero's sake.


I have picked another mistress,

My offering is now clear:

Will she smile ere she ends me?

Does she hope to make me fear?


She will strike me when she softens.

My eyes, 'till then, are still

Fastened at her corse's nexus,

Tensened to extract its fill.