Mademoiselle de Maupin

When the stir and the movement are over, When you that had the lightness of a wind Or the poise of some swift bird Burn no longer in any man’s mind, And your voice in no man’s heart is heard, Who in the world will dare to be a lover?

Would any being hurt in the night be crying “O God! her little mouth that with a kiss Drank all a man; and—God! her weaving fingers!” Would any of another dare say this? Will there be other women, other singers? I wish with you and me love might be dying.