Tis the vision of a flower;
In the bosom of her bloom,
Radiances of joy fill the room;
A moment melts into an hour;
My nature falls unto her power;
As a bee, drawn to her perfume.
A kiss; a honeycomb - her embrace; my tomb.
Upon her skin, a dew to devour;
Betwixt her petals, within the bower,
An endless bounty, I cannot assume;
Yet, dispossessed would foredoom.
My love, I do avow her.
To rest upon where she lay;
I'd let my heart its final day.