The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

[...]
And I have known the arms already, known them all —
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
   And should I then presume?
   And how should I begin?
[...]

- T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, 1917