Flirtation

ON thy purple mat thy body bare  Is fine and limber like a tender tree.

The motion of thy supple form is rare,  Like a lithe panther lolling languidly,

Toying and turning slowly in her lair.  Oh,

I would never ask for more of thee,

Thou art so clean in passion and so fair.  Enough! if thou wilt ask no more of me!