My Love
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.
Arthur Henry Adams
Другие работы автора
The Wonderful Aussie Waler
When Allenby's Army smashed the Who was the bloke who did all the The Aussie knows and he'll tell you That most of the job was done by his
Fleet Street
TH this narrow jostling street, Unruffled by the noise of feet, Like a slow organ-note I hear The pulses of the great world beat Unseen beneath the city’s show Through this aorta ever flow The currents of the universe— A thousand pulses throb...
In Hyde Park
The white mist walks between the In silver gown; Her mystic floating The branches drown;
Grey Eyes
HE glanced across the path to me, Grey eyes Her looks were kisses plain to see I gave her glances back to her —Glad eyes
