I will knit him a jumper for the seas,
Soft as the breast of mourning dove,
As he, so far away from, recedes,
  To embrace him sure as I am gone.

O, my laddie, my love!

I will sew grandest socks for keeping,
  Soft and warm as the summer oceans,
To spindle his feet at long fires for me,
  Betrothals we promised under moon.

O, my laddie, my dove!

And I will write him such sonnets so fair,
  Even the stars all nightfall shall swoon
And I shall fiddle, with poets, sweetest airs,
  Counting the days till when he returns.

*O, my laddie, my truest one!

last night I nearly lived,
in dream so make believe,
such a turn of sunshine

and hope was always true,
could cast away my sorrow,
beyond the dream horizons,

i saw painted, dim lit boats,
shrinking blue into oceans,
skipping in longest tides,

only wings can take me
there, to the outter shores,
beyond the dream horizons,

i cannot fly, I then thought,
as the lone seabird sails,
as such an angelic thing,

but see the sky is an arc,
any wing can show you,
just lend an limb or eye,

across the sun waves,
are new lands to make,
before any moon rises,

the sky is clearly woven,
skerries and the frosted
banks are steeply melting,

a lone grey gull cries over,
seabird in soul ceremony,
solemn with climbing sun,

i cannot fly, I then thought,
as the lone seabird sails,
as such an angelic thing,

merely I am human now,
awake from dream horizons,
dead alive without wings.

Your eyes
Make me smile,
Your lips
Want me, I know,
Your hair
Is for being lost,
Your height
Is for me to faint,
Your breath
Is air of true life,
Your arms
Hold me so tight,
Your legs
Are shock, arresting,
Your cheek
Is for giddy kissing,
Your words
Go trancing, unheard,
Your fingers
Are for *******.

Thank you m'lord,
For sensate love,
Thank you m'lord,
For shivering flesh,
Thank you m'lord,
For what grows in me,
I am your mistress.