Classic Poem

In my arms I held her tight,
Saw her eyes with laughter gleam,
Close together in the night:
Though 'twas but a dream.

All her body I caressed
Nor did she reluctant seem,
Each soft limb upon me pressed,
Yielded:—in my dream.

But as every art I tried
Plunging deep in passion's stream,
I by Cupid was denied,
Lost my lovely dream.

Ah, he is a jealous boy:
Lies in ambush, so I deem:
Will not give us perfect joy
Even in a dream.