Her arms lay bare about his neck, and still
In dream, her lips half open with a sigh
As though to woo her dream some sweet reply.
All slowly her enthrallèd senses fill,

As valley waters from a mountain rill
Swollen by storm. Her bosom'd treasures lie
Encircled by his arms, and still sweeps by
The swelling tide into the Deep's deep will.

And he, too, dreams—in Love's night-hidden day—
Until the shallows, murmuring, rise and leap,
And lap the spirit within that sweet clay.
Against his breast. Then lips that trysting keep,
Unconsciously, nearer and closer lay
Till sudden kisses burst the bonds of sleep.