Oh, I would kill you, that I might enjoy
Your beauty unmolested, and respire
Each perfect thing about you, till desire
Ceased from satiety. I would destroy
The sickly flame of life, so I could toy
With your sun-tingéd tresses at my will,
And quaff the rose-scent of your skin and fill
Each separate part of me with sweetness. Boy,
Thus shall delight of you without alloy
Wake in my heart; for when I kiss your face,
It shall not quiver in my fond embrace
Beset with oldtime images. Sweet and coy
Your faultless breast shall all its treasures give.
(I love you dear, too much to let you live!)