A casual faun.

"Please let him come and give me the resilience and guts to make him respect me, be 

interested, and not to throw myself at him with loudness or hysterical yelling; calmly,gently, 

easy baby,easy. He is probably strutting the backs among crocuses now with seven 

Scandinavian mistresses. And I sit spiderlike, waiting here, home; Penelope weaving webs of 

Webster, turning spindles of Tourneur. Oh, he is here; my black marauder; oh hungry 

hungry. I am so hungry for a big smashing creative burgeoning burdened love: I am here;

I wait, and he plays on the banks of the river Cam like a casual faun."

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath ( March 10, 1956)