Believe me, every hour e'en yet I dream
Of those in which I first revealed to thee
The tender secret of thy victory,
Perplexed in speech, yet daring in my theme.
Now thy designs unfathomable seem:
Since they consort not with such modesty,
Thou dost lament our love's degeneracy,
And thy desires too bold and sinful deem.
Mid flowery perfumes Oh here let us lie,
Cheek against cheek, at dusk beneath the trees,
Breast pressing close to breast and thigh to thigh.
Hark how the old elms rustle in the breeze!
Perchance an elfin choir is swarming nigh,
To whisper soft, sweet bridal melodies.