If there should be a moon above the hill
To-night, dip down with me into the sea
Of our first passion, and, with naked glee,
Breathe its ripe wonder to our beings fill.
O, as the moonbeams on the violets spill
Rivers of uncontrolled felicity,
Well tune our bodies to a melody
And set our pulses to a poets thrill.
Your hot lips tremble on my eyes.
You droop. You swoon in silence over me
Heaven, out of yours, my very eyelids sup.
The stars are running out of Paradise
I languish, perfumed with expectancy
Beloved, kiss me, for the moon is up.