Pygmalion and Galatea by Jean-Leon Gerome: From a print I own depicting the myth of Pygmalion who in the briefest terms disliked women until he created an image of the female form possessed of such beauty that he fell in love and begged the Gods to bring her to life.
Poor Pygmalion, his desire for Women forever tainted
by those who exchange love for coin,
those Women of the Night, faces painted ,
he did once with intimacy seek to join.
He thought the fairer Sex a worthless Breed,
not worth a second of his Time,
this hate so became his Creed,
he felt to speak to such a Crime.
His Work absorbed him, working in purest stone,
not in control of his Mind ,
his Tools a life of their own,
there appeared an image of Woman Kind.
And he had created, whilst not even aware,
a Statue of such feminine grace,
so beautiful he could only stare
as all hate it did erase.
He toiled ever more, emotion in him grew
it was perfection he now sought
as suddenly he knew,
pure love had he wrought.
Fervent Pleas to Aphrodite, for he longed for the Stone,
such perfection yet cold,
to become Flesh and Bone,
his Lover to hold.
Heard from above, she became soft and warm to touch,
he knew what he had missed,
that he had lost so much
the moment Lips were kissed