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The poems of Thomas Gordon Hake

THE INFANT MEDUSA

Reading edition

By Poseidon

I loved Medusa when she was a child,

Her rich brown tresses heaped in crispy curl

Where now those locks with reptile passion whirl,

By hate into dishevelled serpents coiled.

I loved Medusa when her eyes were mild,

Whose glances, narrowed now, perdition hurl,

As her self-tangled hairs their mass unfurl,

Bristling the way she turns with hissings wild.

Her mouth I kissed when curved with amorous spell,

Now shaped to the unuttered curse of hell,

Wide open for death’s orbs to freeze upon;

Her eyes I loved ere glazed in icy stare,

Ere mortals, lured into their ruthless glare,

She shrivelled in her gaze to pulseless stone.

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