I kiss thy hands—thy hands, whose fingers are delicate and pale as the petals of the white lotus.
II
I kiss thy hair, which has the lustre of black jewels, and is darker than Lethe, flowing by midnight through the moonless slumber of poppy-scented lands.
III
I kiss thy brow, which resembles the rising moon in a valley of cedars.
IV
I kiss thy cheeks, where lingers a faint flush, like the reflection of a rose upheld to an urn of alabaster.
V
I kiss thine eyelids, and liken them to the purple-veinèd flowers that close beneath the oppression of a tropic evening, in a land where the sunsets are bright as the flames of burning amber.
VI