I languish in thy penetrating clasp,
Just as a bird entangled on a bough
Shaken by the wind;
Yet here would I be happy in the grasp
Of death; but in thy breast I’m hidden now,
And death is blind.
I melt beneath thy storm of kisses, dear,
Just as the gum upon the almond tree
Of melting when alone and far from thee:
Melts ’neath the rain;
Yet would I melt to-night than live in fear
O, storm again!