Madly shall lives on her strange beauty break.
When she is yours and in ambrosial glooms
You secretly would chain her kiss by kiss,
Though close you hold her in your hungering arms,
And with voluptuous pantings you and she
Mingle, and seem the insentient moment one,
Yet will your groping soul but lean to her
Across the dusk, as hill to lonely hill,
And in your warmest raptures you shall learn
There is a citadel surrenders not