[BNP/E3, 79 – 43]

ON AN ANKLE.

A Sonnet bearing the Imprimatur of the Inquisitor-General and of other people of distinction and of decency.

OFFERED BUT NOT DEDICATED TO A. T. R.

I had a revelation not from high

But from below, when thy skirt awhile lifted

Betrayed such promise that I am not gifted

With words that may that view well signify.

And even if my verse that thing would try,

Hard were it, if my task came to be sifted,

To find a word that rude would not have shifted

Therefrom the cold hand of Morality.

To gaze is nought; mere sight no mind hath wrecked

But oh, sweet lady, beyond what is seen

What things may guess or hint a Disrespect. ?!

Sacred is not the beauty of a queen…

I from thine ankle did as much suspect

As you from this may suspect what I mean.

ALEXANDER SEARCH. X