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 | 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 | |