Come Young Pirates, Probing Lips Moving Dangerously Near, Part X X V Poem by Captain Cur

No warmth against my lips will ever press
Though plagued by dreams disturbing evening rest
Whose peasant heart may hope to win my hand
Weak pesky waves that titillate the sand.

Love must perform with far greater zeal
Plunging to depths that only flesh can feel
That my mind, my wild imaginings sought,
Infiltrating my every waking thought.

Hands of strength; yet, mastering gentle skill
Where beneath the sheets those toying fingers till,
Euphoria, senses utterly aware,
Probing lips moving dangerously near.

When in weakness what weapon can I wield
But to submit and drop my virgin shield,
Wounded virtue staggering falls and dies
Still gazing up with frozen wanton eyes.

If chaste reflection only brings disgust
Do pious thoughts masquerade as lust?
I, a lesser slave despite my woman's pride,
Worse than bondage, betrothed as England's bride.

Oh! That these cravings in my breast would cease
Or seek one who can bring my soul release,
The crown is weighted and the throne a chain,
My porcelain face powdered by disdain.

I sit on high endeared to all below;
To my own worth the greater debt I owe,
Of myself I can never give away
A museum statue beleaguered by decay.

What lettered words can begin to unlock
And enter a cold and loveless heart
When in emptiness it recites alone
Till all poetic loveliness is gone,

And the lines break like a weathered chain
Vocalizing in servitude to pain
Here pity's polished lamp will brightly shine
Its flame lit by the hand of the Divine.