He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
A shudder in the loins, engenders there
And Agamemnon dead.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
Before the indifferentbeak could let her drop?
How can anybody, laid in that white rush,
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
So masteredby the brute blood of the air,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
Leda And The Swan
By his dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Did sheput on his knowledge with his power
Being so caught up,
