Your body’s treasures are mine to-day,
Though bitter as gall be their savour still;
From head to foot shall my kisses play,
Till naught is kept from their sovereign will!
The voice of my need supreme must guide
My passionate love to its destined goal;
My feverish fingers shall seek and glide
Until at the last I hold the soul.
My hot strong hands will no veil endure
That shadows your radiant nakedness;
Lay bare each beauty, conceal no lure,
Leave naught to hinder my fond caress!
Young blood beats onward, unchecked by shame,
When passion’s harvest is ripe to reap;
For who shall speak with the raging flame,
Or stay the cataract in its leap?
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