Last night I lay dozing
When in there came,
And sat beside me, posing,
One whom I claim
Is neat, and sweet, and dutiful,
Bewitching, too, and beautiful,
Superbly grand in charm;
The glory of her jetty eyes,
The taper of her form,
Its taction and its guise -
But then I mustn't tell
Of that delightful swell
Of breast against my own;
Her touch of lips to mine,
Like Hebe's nectar wine,
Revived, refreshed and blessed me -
And still I mustn't tell
How that delightful swell
Of heart of hers, to soul of mine,
To mine, to mine, to mine!
Was like the flow of Hebe's wine
Upon a famished tongue.
Waking, from dream, I found thee,
Too prone to pose
And others draw around thee,
And me with those
To taunt with airy flirting,
Too happy thou, in hurting,
Breaking the heart of me.
Eulelia, doth thou know thy crime,
Coquettish butchery,
Hath but my spirit charmed to lime -
But then I mustn't tell
How cursed art thou and fell,
Locked in my rival's arms;
His touch of lips to thine,
A plague and curse to mine,
Doth demonize thee, dear;
So hence I mustn't dwell
On thought of thee, nor tell
How his lips touched to thine make brine
Of them for mine, for mine,
For mine, for mine, for mine!
Make brine of thine for mine.
Eulelia, I'd be sleeping,
For then it seems
My old thought dome is keeping
Tab on happy themes,
Of one so rare, so beautiful,
With grace so sweet, immutable,
And like a Fay's concerned,
I can but fancy, love, that she
Is thine own self returned
With Hebe's cup for me -
But why should I disclose,
What charm dispels my throes -
Like Nepenthes' spell 's the heave
Of thy fond breast to mine;
So charming, rare, divine!
That is, so it seems,
When I am lost in dream,
My day dream's happy theme,
That captive holds the heart of mine,
Of mine, of mine, of mine!
That captive holds the heart of mine,
In vassalage to thine.