I know it cannot equal mine.
"I see her as she chastely lies
Upon the linen white;
Was ne'er to man's or angel's eyes
So beautiful a sight!
O, mark her bosom's fall and swell,
(Profane it were of more to tell.)
While hover round her rose-leaf mouth,
Sweets that excel the Arabian South.
"Listen! she murmurs in her dreams,