In the Meadow

The shadow of thy curls I see
  Upon thy lovely face;
And just a little wish is mine⁠—
  The shadow to embrace.

On thy black and silken tresses,
  Ah, one longs to feast the sight;
But the shadows of their beauty,
  Hanging on thy cheeks of light,

From my lips, exact a tribute,
  Which I pay here in this meadow:
Blush not, my most winsome maiden;
  I have only kissed the shadow.