Jean-Léon Gérôme, Anacreon, Bacchus et Cupid (Art & literature)
By Inès Martin | On 14/02/2014 | Comments (0)
Poet of her face divine,
Curb this over-zeal of thine!
Doves wing frighted from the ground
At a step's too sudden sound,
And her passion is a dove,
Frighted by too bold a love.
Mute as marble Hermes wait
By the blooming hawthorn-gate.
Thou shalt see her wings expand,
She shall flutter to thy hand.
On thy forehead thou shalt know
Something like a breath of snow,
Or of pinions pure that beat
In a whirl of whiteness sweet.
And the dove, grown venturesome,
Shall upon thy shoulder come,
And its rosy beak shall sip
From the nectar of thy lip.
Théophile Gautier, "Odelet, after Anacreon", in Enamels & Cameos, from The Project Gutenberg