You by whose sweet nature does rule this text,
As surely as I spell your name, your thoughts it reflects.
My longings my darling are nothing less than your desires,
Our combined cloudy pillar floating on high by our inner fires.
My second dream is but a forethought of your mind’s first wand
Parting my words and showing me your promised hand.
Who’s to say, in some very far off distant age,
They will say that I have exercised some sacred prophet's rage?
An unpeopling prayer within our combined diviner's themes,
Like we were young filled with vision and the old people's dreams!
To thee, my Love’s Savior, to thee my vows’ confess,
I am never satisfied with the time the world gives us in bliss.
Swift do those times pass, bespoken each timely romp, thy hips do proclaim,
These words, a stammering thought teaching me how to whisper thy name.