HE has tender eyes that
All her prim, set lips suppress —Daring thoughts that ever
Prisoned in her bashfulness;
Hints of sudden
That within her breast rebel.
Till her bosom's fall and
Tell her meaning all too well,
To her heart's demure distress.
She has soft, smooth cheeks that
As she nestles close, so close,
With the new half-joy, half-shame,
That within her bosom glows,
And each fevered feature shows.
Her hot pulses beat
Of the hopes she dare not tame,
Fervid thoughts she cannot name —Till I kiss her, and she knows.
She has clinging arms of white,
Little hands and fingers fine,
And she holds me tight, so tight;
While her eager arms
Deep I drink her kisses' wine.
Hush!
I feel through all her slight,
Trembling figure love's delight,
And she knows that all is right,
And her bosom beats with mine.
