The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | ||
THE SWEETEST DREAM.
Fold, white arms, about me;
Cling, sweet lips, to mine!
Sweetest sweet, without thee
I but waste and pine.
Cling, sweet lips, to mine!
Sweetest sweet, without thee
I but waste and pine.
Lean, dear face, above me;
Soft hands, hold mine close;
Let me look and love thee,
O my very rose!
Soft hands, hold mine close;
Let me look and love thee,
O my very rose!
Comfort me with kisses
That your soul comes through;
Let the old dead blisses
Breathe and burn anew.
That your soul comes through;
Let the old dead blisses
Breathe and burn anew.
Lean upon my bosom
Till I feel yours beat,
And your mouth's sweet blossom
Passion make more sweet.
Till I feel yours beat,
And your mouth's sweet blossom
Passion make more sweet.
O my sweet one, sweetest,
Love of loves supreme,
This has been the fleetest,
Sweetest, bitterest dream.
Love of loves supreme,
This has been the fleetest,
Sweetest, bitterest dream.
The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | ||