Of drops upheaved from lava-founts of wo;
And while these burning tides my lids o’erflow,
Impassioned Fancy to thy presence hies,
And suns her in the radiance of thine eyes—
At the pure well-spring of thy bosom sips,
And feeds upon the nectar of thy lips;
Then back, with gathered sweets, returns to me,
As homeward comes at eve the honey-freighted bee.