 | Duganne's Poetical Works |  |
282
ANACREONTIQUE.
JULIA! I charge thee, fill for meA goblet of the Orient wine!
Now Luna's yellow tresses twine
Their gold amid the jet of thine,
I drink, my love! to thee.
Ay!—fling thy glowing arms, my girl!
About my neck, and lay thy brow
Upon my bosom closely now,
Until my breath shall fan the curl
That wantons with my lips—
The jealous Moon shall learn, full soon,
Thine eyes are her eclipse!—
Fill high! fill high!—or live, or die,
I clasp thee in mine arms—
By Heaven! I swear, that sky and air
Are drunken with thy charms!
My soul is trembling on my breath—
One kiss!—and thou may'st taste it!
“Soft, dearest! soft!” it murmureth—
“Take not thy lips away,” it saith:
“Taste all—but do not waste it!”
| Duganne's Poetical Works | |