My love lay deep in perfect somnolence.
I took her, spent my force, and had my will;
and heard the night go chattering in suspense
of dawn—all else was beautiful and still.
Although it was a new experience,
I mostly felt the liberating thrill
of needing no one, an island of the sense,
the pure access of appetite to fill.
The act was wholly selfish, no pretense.
It was not making love, it was to swill
upon an object of white innocence,
in such a way my readers should think ill,
or graceless be themselves, but in defense
what harm, what shame, what false, what did I kill?
Edward Wright Haile
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/zz-212-what-harm-what-shame-what-false/
