Sonnets

IMMORAL SONNET XVI

Jenny Churchill! Now at last your name

Resurfaces. One night-drive down a lane

Towards the Thames. I think we briefly swam,

Then our companion went to smoke alone

Behind a close-cropped willow as we came

Together in the darkness and lay down.

When bared that night, your whiteness was a flame

Reflected in the grass beneath you. Soon

You slid me up you, utterly untame:

Un-Leda-like, you, Jenny, were the swan.

Your neck your writhing spine. It was a shame

It happened quite so fast perhaps, but then

This brevity paid tribute to your claim

To loveliness, and all I'd wished to gain.

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