Explore "I, Poor Romantic, Held her Heel" by Dylan Thomas on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I, poor romantic, held her heel / Upon the island of my palm, / And saw towards her tiny face / Going her glistening calves that minute.
There was a purpose in her pointed foot; / Her thighs and underclothes were sweet, / And drew my spiral breath / To circumambulate for decency / Their golden and their other colour.
The band was playing on the balcony.
One lady's hand was lifted, / But she did not cry, ‘I see; / I see the man is mad with love. ' / Her fan burst in a million lights
As that her heel was lifted, / Gone from my palm to leave it marked / With quite a kind of heart.
She is on dancing toes again, / Sparkling a twelve-legged body
And many arms to raise / Over her heel and me.
I, poor romantic, contemplate / The insect on this painted tree.
Which is the metal wing
And which the real?