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RabLani -> Sonnet in praise of his lady's whip... (9/15/2014 10:56:30 PM)
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The poet declares his love for the instrument of his correction so beautifully handled by his lady...
Dread scourge of love and pain with quickened beat
My heart does thrill to think of you and fears
The justice you dispense but yet the heat
Of passion rises to burn my limbs and sears
My very core as fond before your feet
I fall and even beg for blows with tears
And longing cries that sternest mistress treat
Me with that cruelest love I’ve craved for years
Oh envied lash that lies in Lady’s hand
Come let me place my lips upon the thong
And whisper wooing words your favours so
To win. Sweet crop come make my longing grow
With fragrant flagellation all night long
The laws of love these sacred strokes demand.
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