Love Song

A poem by Aldous Huxley (1894 – 1963)

Dear absurd child–too dear to my cost I’ve found–

God made your soul for pleasure, not for use:

It cleaves no way, but angled broad obtuse,

Impinges with a slabby-bellied sound

Full upon life, and on the rind of things

Rubs its sleek self and utters purr and snore

And all the gamut of satisfied murmurings,

Content with that, nor wishes anything more.

A happy infant, daubed to the eyes in juice

Of peaches that flush bloody at the core,

Naked you bask upon a south-sea shore,

While o’er your tumbling bosom the hair floats loose.

The wild flowers bloom and die; the heavens go round

With the song of wheeling planetary rings:

You wriggle in the sun; each moment brings

Its freight for you; in all things pleasures abound.

You taste and smile, then this for the next pass over;

And there’s no future for you and no past,

And when, absurdly, death arrives at last,

‘Twill please you awhile to kiss your latest lover.

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Poems in English 

• Robert Burns: My Lord A-Hunting: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Bonie Moor-Hen: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Prologue: Spoken by Mr. Woods on his benefit-night, Monday, 16th April, 1787 by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Verses Intended To Be Written Below A Noble Earl’s Picture: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epistle To Mrs. Scott: Gudewife of Wauchope-House, Roxburghshire. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Inscription For The Headstone Of Fergusson The Poet: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Extempore In The Court Of Session: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Bonie Dundee: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Rattlin’, Roarin’ Willie: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Mr. William Smellie -A Sketch: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To Miss Logan, With Beattie’s Poems, For A New-Year’s Gift, Jan. 1, 1787: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Address To A Haggis: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Address To Edinburgh: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Yon Wild Mossy Mountains: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: A Winter Night : by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Sensibility: Fragment by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epistle To Major Logan: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Tam Samson’s Elegy: When this worthy old sportman went out, last muirfowl season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian’s phrase, “the last of his fields,” and expressed an ardent wish to die and be buried in the muirs. On this hint the author composed his elegy and epitaph.-R.B., 1787. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Composed In Spring: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Inscribed On A Work Of Hannah More’s: Presented to the Author by a Lady. by Robert Burns

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