IV.

I hear a voice, whose accents dear

Melt, like soft music, in mine ear.

A gentle hand, that seems divine,

Is warmly, fondly clasped in mine;

And lips upon my cheeks are pressed,

That whisper tones from regions blest:

But soon I start--for friendship's kiss

Is gone, and lo! a serpent's hiss.

Poems(#11558) · 第 39 / 63 题