Poetry Archives

I will give you all my keys,
  You shall be my châtelaine,
You shall enter as you please,
  As you please shall go again.

When I hear you jingling through
  All the chambers of my soul,
How I sit and laugh at you
  In your vain housekeeping rôle.

Jealous of the smallest cover,
  Angry at the simpler door;
Well, you anxious, inquisitive lover,
  Are you pleased with what’s in store?

You have fingered all my treasures,
  Have you not, most curiously,
Handled all my tools and measures
  And masculine machinery?

Over every single beauty
  You have had your little rapture;
You have slain, as was your duty,
  Every sin-mouse you could capture.

Still you are not satisfied,
  Still you tremble faint reproach;
Challenge me I keep aside
  Secrets that you may not broach.

Maybe yes, and maybe no,
  Maybe there are secret places,
Altars barbarous below,
  Elsewhere halls of high disgraces.

Maybe yes, and maybe no,
  You may have it as you please,
Since I choose to keep you so,
  Suppliant on your curious knees.