Coyly upon me. Throwing forth her arms
She yearned on me, her hair’s luxuriant guise
Falling carelessly and free, while she her charms
Spun, threading in her woof of thought. The air,
Murmuring her music yet, hung over me
As heaving breast to breast we stood, surmise
Holding me feeble and faint, ecstatically.
Then did I burst away
Restraint; tossing off wrinkled Care
I strode toward the dear Angel of my Dream.