Classic Poem

My doris lay upon my arm,
All rosy red, with kisses warm,
While proud as Jove amid the skies
I revelled in love's mysteries.
She clasped me close about my waist
And swiftly to our goal we raced.

Fast and more fast: like swaying leaves
Her eyelids move, her bosom heaves.
She faints with rapture, till at length
Our task is done, and all our strength.
Then we, as guerdon for her aid,
To Venus due libation paid.