Pygmalion's Plea

I fashioned my love’s frown of dull command And sneer of some embellished, soundless clay. From morning to the night, from night to day I dwelt nearby my love, and couldn’t stand To peel my eyes from off her cheek’s faint brand, Nor off her lips, embroidered with the ray Of gold and ruby, bright as stars of May Yet cold as winter wrapping autumn land. Oh, Venus, my poor heart and stricken soul Fell not for women of pure human touch For I have dipped myself in folly’s bowl But deem it folly I should not, for much I’ve loved, but Venus, ever in my dole I’ll live if stays to be of icy stone, this statue’s clutch © 2014 Gleb Zavlanov