Coquette

I am wearied with insatiable longing For that laughing, blue-eyed wanton called the sea. Though she’s but a faithless rover And the wide world’s willing lover I’d be content if she would share an hour with me. If she would toss me on her restless, throbbing bosom, Caress a moment—and then flout me in my pain, I would barter all the treasures Of the rich man’s million pleasures To be rocked within her siren arms again. Her honey voice is luring, mocking, calling! Her sapphire scalloped skirts are piped with foam: And her light feet shoreward dancing, Pearly-sandalled and entrancing, Entice the steps of men from love and home. False and cruel is her glittering lure; Her gifts are death and woe’s delirium⁠— Yet heaven holds no blisses Like the sharp tang of her kisses⁠— Ah! Coquette! if you should slay me, I must come!