Two lovely beings near me stood,
The one a tall and blooming youth,
The other in sweet maidenhood,
All wreathed with smiles, and love, and truth.
He gazed upon her beaming face,
As if his soul lay mirrored there,
Then drew her close to his embrace—
But shrinking back, she said—“_Take care!_”
“It never gave me joy,” he sighed,
“The dew from saintly lips to sip—
I’d rather quaff the lava tide
That flushes Passion’s burning lip.”
“Then go,” she said—“I spurn thy kiss—
Go, kneel at glowing Venus’ shrine,
And drink thy fill of wanton bliss—
Thy lip shall never feed on mine.”
* * * * *