Often I’ve heard the gentle gender moan
that men are all the same and want one thing.
And true it is: before his seed is sown,
man finds unsated passion gruelling.
Give him a wilderness a fortnight wide
and then his thoughts will wander from his wench
and, if he makes it to the riverside,
ask him which appetite he first must quench.
You are both wilderness and paradise.
You are Sahara and the seven seas.
Take first my love and then, as cool as ice,
I’ll speak of icebergs or antipodes.