Explore "Dolores" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Lithe-armed, and with satin-soft shoulders / As white as the cream-crested wave; / With a gaze dazing every beholder's, / She holds every gazer a slave: / Her hair, a fair haze, is outfloated / And flared in the air like a flame; / Bare-breasted, bare-browed and bare-throated- / Too smooth for the soothliest name.
She wiles you with wine, and wrings for you / Ripe juices of citron and grape; / She lifts up her lute and sings for you / Till the soul of you seeks no escape; / And you revel and reel with mad laughter, / And fall at her feet, at her beck, / And the scar of her sandal thereafter / You wear like a gyve round your neck.