Upon the hills of my love’s breast the lamplight falls;
On up the hills of my love’s cheeks it ‘gins to rise.
From bridge of nose to forehead slowly goes,
While in between I see the sparks of dang’rous eyes.
A radiant crown of raven blue—-her hair,
As down she flits beside me in her chair.
She offers me two hands, two lips, one kiss,
And in my book I lose my place for this.
The pages slide and flutter, light goes out!
The room is dark, yet seem fair stars about.
I feel the curling petals of some fire
And all my book is one great poem—-Desire!