Lying on the kip in the night I saw my dear hover over my bed, bloodless as the most pale lily head, soft-skinned with naked neck to bite, too waxen for a blush and too flush for white, but perfectly toned without white or red.

And her entire face kissed by my mouth, and all her body watched by mine eyes; the tender hands and eyes of fire, the shaking  limbs hotter than the south, the flowing wings, the lithe thighs, and burning soul of my heart's desire.