Simulacrum - Lychgate

Pygmalion could no longer

Love his own

Humankind

Propoetides dared to deny

The great Venus

He abhorred their lives and souls

And sought to carve his own form

Galatea — the embodiment

Of human perfection

Purity — the unliving, ivory reflection

Nature cannot with this art compare

Humanity cannot transcend her form so fair

With solemn rites performed, he calls her bride

With blandishments he invites her to his side

Pygmalion approached the shrine

And implored the powers divine

If all we can require, be ours to bestow

Give me likeness of this being

Divinity favoured his plea

Transfigured into flesh

He presses the pulse

And feels the leaping vein

Behind the glint of silver eyes

A soul is born and usurps her mind