And down I set the cushion
Upon the couch that she,
Relaxed supine upon it,
Might give her lips to me.
As some enamored priestess
At Aphrodite's shrine,
Entranced I bent above her
With sense of the divine.
She had, by nature nubile,
In years a child, no hint
Of any secret knowledge
Of pa**ion's least intent.
Her mouth for immolation
Was ripe, and mine the art;
And one long kiss of pa**ion
Deflowered her virgin heart.