Upon her breast her hands and hair
Were tangled all together.
The moon of June forbade me not--
The golden night time weather
In balmy sighs commanded me
To kiss them like a feather.
Her looming hair, her burning hands,
Were tangled black and white.
My face I buried there. I pray--
So far from her to-night--
For grace, to dream I kiss her soul
Amid the black and white.