Eugen von Blaas, The Unseen Suitor (1898)
The Unseen Suitor, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Is it but love that is your guiding light,
Or another guise filled with mortal lies?
Are you one to steal away in the night,
If so, be assured I won’t be your prize.
Easy to take my rose, but not my heart,
For it is china easily broken.
Let it be accept’d from the very start,
No chance for you my giv’n heart to bludgeon.
Your willing smile I wish to be sincere
As my heart races when you are so near.
Your love my heart shall forever endear,
And finally bury this dreadful fear.
A love anew is extremely fragile,
Faithfulness, a sure way to make it jell.
Frank Dicksee, The Sensitive Plant (c. 1920)
Mimosa Pudica, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
I sneak into the garden to see you,
Choosing you because of your tenderness.
My advance you resist, why, not a clue,
It is for sure you can’t claim my remiss.
From you my inner strength I do maintain,
Without you I do not know where I’d be.
But your strange behavior you must explain,
Can it be a mere lack of trust in me?
When touched you quickly become a hedgehog.
Should I seek you when dark you are bedd’d down.
How can we continue, I am befog.
At this juncture all I can do is frown.
Oft for love many mountains must we climb,
Here for your love I shall give it much time.
Wilhelm Marstrand, Italian Osteria Scene (c. 1860)
Italian Osteria, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Will I be safe to sit at this table?
For it appears that I am out numbered.
Such beauty is there anything to mull?
With love potential need not be badgered.
Due belle donne, what an impossible choice,
Of different beauty yet both appeal.
It is possible I will have no voice,
All a matter of who my heart does steal.
Darting eyes tells me to be in good stead,
Orthrus is there protecting what I seek.
One illicit move I’d be torn to shred.
Deep pain for the blood of my groin be pique.
Cursed am I for being filled with desire,
Today only a smile will I acquire.
Rogelio de Egusquiza, A reverie during the ball (1879)
A Reverie during the Ball, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Oh! I swoon from his ever gentle touch,
His soft words of love met no resistance.
My melting heart in his hand he did clutch.
He pulled me close so close in every dance.
Now musing of all the words that he said,
Is this real or infatuation.
Will he be the one that I choose to wed?
On my finger his ring I emblazon?
The stardust before me impedes my view,
As I am eager to have him touch me,
In carnal ways this body never knew,
To quell this desire set no boundary.
A firestorm is burning within me now,
But in the morn will love we reavow?
William-Adolphe Bouguereau, The Abduction of Psyche (1895)
The Abduction of Psyche, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Cupid, with thee arrow strike yonder male,
Seal the fate of Psyche so young so frail.
Mother, if thy command I will not fail,
Yet did I, now with wound of no avail.
Psyche my love for thee shall be proven,
As thee see our lives be interwoven.
Will be tested by mightiest coven,
With arm around thee shall fly to heaven.
Gently I place thee upon the clover,
Bed so soft for a beautiful lover.
Looking at thee I move my lips lower,
To kiss thy lips. Seal our love forever.
No doubt, love can last an eternity,
Even between mortals like you and me.
Claude Monet, The Gare Saint-Lazare (1877)
The Station, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
With suitcase in hand I step from the train.
It is the beginning of a new life.
A new soul and conscience without a stain.
Between you and me no longer be strife.
With anger in its wheels train departed.
Leaving behind a trail of billowed steam.
Have a feeling of being fainthearted.
Now no longer constant in what I deem.
With consternation did look whence I came.
Should the same questions be asked once again?
Would responses be exactly the same?
If so would it be done myself to feign?
The tracks offer the answer, they’d nev’r meet.
Like the tracks, you and I would nev’r accrete.
Mary Cassatt, In the Loge (1878)
In the Loge, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Rue de Richelieu is a pleasant walk,
When attending Comedie Français.
Attendance and attire will be the talk,
As around the loge, glasses peer their way.
This game quasi-gentleman like to play,
They’re on safari looking for a prize.
For man’s trophy are willing to betray,
Long friendships with multitude of lies.
I feel the voyeur’s eyes upon my neck,
Though covered myself fully head to toe.
In public woman can’t expect respect,
This is not to say that all men are foe.
A Man who by love alone will be joined,
Always chosen over marriage purloined.