Lyre and Lyrist

I take off your clothes where the moonlight flows,

I undress you with hands full of fire.

Through my fingers l watch how your soft skin glows

As l fondle my moon-lit lyre.

“Ah” is the note of you; “Ah,” and then “Oh,”

Trembling—free sky-born wing.

Too, our mouths are made true of ourselves beautiful

As clean greed is the song we sing!

Then, my hands through your hair, and my body through yours,

As the moon is shut soft by a cloud,

And in darkness we move to the muse that endures,

While the waves crash about us so proud.

On this shore by the sea we are totally free,

As we lay in this love-going moon.

While the lyre and the lyrist—it is you, it is me—

Hum matchless one magical tune!

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