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!