A Death of Love
Methinks, if I should kiss thy lips,
And reverence thy shapely hips,
And stroke thee with my fingertips,
As merry moonlight flows and tips,
I’d die a death of love.
Methinks, if I should glance thy eye,
As muses in their fleetness fly,
Thy happiness in winsome cry,
A song unto my spirit shy,
I’d die a death of love.
Methinks, if thou should offer joy,
Beyond thy coquette image coy,
With boundless passion to employ,
Misgivings to destroy,
I’d die a death of love.
Methinks, if I should duly tell,
Of rapture in thy siren’s spell,
Emergence from my inner shell,
With thou the egress from my hell,
I’d die a death of love.
Methinks, if I could say it plain,
In infinite and sweet refrain,
That I will love thee yet again,
Thy person as a treasure’s gain,
I’d die a death of love…
