Love of Women


O the presence of women!
For me the sweetheart and the old maid, for me mothers and the mothers of mothers,
I swear, nothing is more exquisite to me than the presence of women.
The folds of their dress, their style as we pass in the street!
The unspeakable love I interchanged with women!

I am a man, attracting, at any time, her I but look upon, or touch with the tips of my fingers,
Or that touches my face, or leans against me.
I draw you close to me, you women, I cannot let you go—
The pleasure of men with women shall never be sated, nor the pleasure of women with men.

To whom has been given the sweetest from women, and paid them in kind?
For I will take the like sweets and pay them in kind.
Those women that are warm-blooded and sufficient for me,
I see that they understand me and do not deny me,
I will be the robust husband of those women.

To women certain whispers of myself bequeathing:
This gentle call is for you my love, for you,
Hark close and still what I now whisper to you, with my lips close to your ear,
With this just-sustain’d note I announce myself to you.
I sing your love, O faithful love,
I sing your gentle song,
I sing with tender tongue,
I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you,
O you entirely possess me.

O I have been dilatory and dumb,
I should have made my way straight to you long ago,
I should have blabb’d nothing but you,
I should have chanted nothing but you.
I will leave all and come and make the hymns of you.

The love in the heart long pent, now loose, now at last tumultuously bursting:
Loud! loud! loud! loud I call to you, my love!
Here I am! Here!
Hither my love! surely you must know who is here,
You must know who I am, my love.

Camerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself? Will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live,
The oath of the inseparableness of two together,
That oath swearing?

I will go stay with her who waits for me,
O for happiness with my mate!
O bride! O wife! more resistless than I can tell, the thought of you!
Fast-anchor’d eternal O love! O woman I love!
You and I—what the earth is, we are,
Primeval my love for the woman I love,
The woman that loves me and whom I love more than my life.

My marriage is a full denial of him who would say there is no happiness on earth.
Nothing in my life has brought me more comfort and support every way—nothing has more spiritually soothed me—than the warm appreciation and friendship of that true, full-grown woman;
My attachment was colored with an esteem and respect which made it indeed true love.

Love tamed me from my roughness. She was herself a woman of calm and voluptuous beauty—a being of peace and calmness—she whom I loved; and her influence brought into my temperament something of the same soothing qualities.
Her very presence was soothing and pacifying, to talk to the perfect girl who understands me, to waft to her these from my own lips—to effuse them from my own body—
Conversation is one of the most delicious stimulants which life affords. 

The divine institution of the marriage tie—
The races, neighbors, to marry and be given in marriage—
Lies at the root of the welfare, the safety, the very existence of every nation.

Where the happy young husband and wife are, and the happy old husband and wife are, will allure me—
The hot kiss of the new husband to the bride and the kiss of the bride to the husband,
The chaste blessings of the well-married couple,

The shape of the roof over the well-married young man and woman,
The roof over the supper joyously cook’d by the chaste wife, and joyously eaten by the chaste husband,
The married couple sleeping calmly in their bed, he with his palm on the hip of the wife, and she with her palm on the hip of the husband.

I went by invitation to a party of ladies and  gentlemen—mostly ladies. I talked too, indeed went in like a house afire. It was good exercise, for the fun of the thing. I also made love to the women, and flatter myself that I created at least one impression—wretch and gay deceiver that I am. I have already had three or four such parties here—which, you will certainly admit, considering my age and heft, to say nothing of my reputation, is doing pretty well.
I am here at present times mainly in the midst of female women, some of them young and jolly, and meet them most every evening in company—and the way in which this aged party comes up to the scratch and cuts out the youthful parties and fills their hearts with envy is absolutely a caution. You would be astonished to see the brass and coolness, and the capacity of flirtation and carrying on with the girls—I would never have believed it of myself. Brought here by destiny, surrounded in this way—and as I in self-defense would modestly state, sought for, seized upon, and ravingly devoured by these creatures—and so nice and smart some of them are, and handsome too—there is nothing left for me, is there, but to go in. Of course, you understand, it is all on the square. My going in amounts to just talking and joking and having a devil of a jolly time, carrying on—that’s all. They are all as good girls as ever lived.
How much happier one can be when there is good women around—does me good to be with them all.

NEXT: Love of Men