Lie with me. Let me feel the virile strands

Of your crisp hair against my breast and throat, Weighing your splendid manhood in my hands, Leaning above you tenderly to gloat...

Lie with me for an hour and let me hear Your marching heart go by beneath my ear.

IV

Mine is desire no casual glance may gauge. Mine is a thirst no draught can satisfy. Mine is a hunger crusts cannot assuage. No kindliness can still this urgent cry. The sophistry of swift tongues may deceive Only uncertain lovers-never me.

I yield myself completely to receive The gift of loving unreservedly.

Moth to the flame, lark to the amber dawn, My eyes besiege the candle of your face. Steel to the magnet-so my hands are drawn To touch and contemplate and softly trace The poem of your limbs in beauty grown, Lost in the sleep of love beside my own.

V

The fire and the flood of love must spill Over the brimming heart without regret, And when the thunder of the pulse is still The tongue will taste ecstatic passion yet. Close in the arms of dreaming let me drift Into the seas of sleep and know my breath. Touches the cheek of my Beloved, whose gift Will crown with splendor even the day of death.

These are the perfect hours which men recall, Fallen on desert years and sere with age: How the cool flesh may melt and merge and all The blood become an elemental rage.

So are you fashioned for my sure delight, Your body bound to mine by tender night.

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