Lines

  Unfelt, unheard, unseen,
  I’ve left my little queen,
Her languid arms in silver slumber lying:
  Ah! through their nestling touch,
  Who⁠—who could tell how much
There is for madness⁠—cruel, or complying?

  Those faery lids how sleek!
  Those lips how moist!⁠—they speak,
In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds:
  Into my fancy’s ear
  Melting a burden dear,
How “Love doth know no fulness, and no bounds.”

  True!⁠—tender monitors!
  I bend unto your laws:
This sweetest day for dalliance was born!
  So, without more ado,
  I’ll feel my heaven anew,
For all the blushing of the hasty morn.