Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/194

Lips that no love can tire,
And hands that sting like fire,
Weaving the web Desire
⁠To snare the bird Delight.

But love so lightly plighted,
Our love with torch unlighted,
Paused near us unaffrighted,
⁠Who found and left him free;
None, seeing us woven in sunder,
Will weep or laugh or wonder;
Light love stands clear of thunder,
⁠And safe from winds at sea.

As, when late larks give warning
Of dying lights and dawning,
Night murmurs to the morning,
⁠"Lie still, O love, lie still;"
And half her dark limbs cover
The white limbs of her lover,
With amorous plumes that hover
⁠And fervent lips that chill;

As scornful day represses
Night's void and vain caresses,
And from her cloudier tresses
⁠Unwinds the gold of his,
With limbs by limbs dividing
And breath by breath subsiding;