486
PARTISAN REVIEW
and thought how strange and stupid it was
that
I,
a poet, would be forbidden
to describe our making love.
One of the most beautiful of a ll the arts,
and, after cooking, certainly the most necessary,
was taboo, as if we were still savages.
But in the better times to come,
or so I thought,
all this will certainly be changed.
Pleasure will have forgotten prudery,
peace violence, and joy will grow like grass.
In the late and lovely evening of the world,
when men have tired of their idiot labor,
their endless building up and tearing down,
their senseless wars, their passions about nothing,
then will the human race, grown wise at last,
cease wandering in effort's barren land,
and turn once more to Eden. South we'll go,
withdrawing from all difficult northern places;
and if an angel with a sword still bars the way,
we'll not be fooled by his official frown;
why, one warm kiss will make him smile, and turn,
and take us by the hand, and lead us in.
Our poor first foolish Adam never knew this trick,
so lost his paradise forever;
but the last Adam will be gay and knowing,
will laugh at dull, unnecessary things,
and hold supreme, above all earthly skills,
all other arts of men,
the craft of love that leads us home again.
