In a wilderness, as I saw you first;

And I love you much as a man may dare

Who is torn asunder ’twixt love and thirst——

Pray tell me, dear!

Will the wind-vane veer

When I hang my pants on the chandelier?

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And will Passion’s flower still bloom as red,—

Will you shrink right over against the wall,—

When I tumble into the nuptial bed

With my harness on, and my boots and all?