So quick we whirl, so quick advance,
What rapture then like mine!
And when she's giddy, and feels warm,
I cradle her, poor thing,
Upon my breast, and in mine arm,—
I'm then a very king!
And when she looks with love of me,
Forgetting all but this,
When pressed against my bosom, she
Exchanges kiss for kiss,
All through my marrow runs a thrill,
Runs e'en my foot along!
I feel so well, I feel so ill,
I feel so weak, so strong!
Would that such moments ne'er would end!
The day ne'er long I find;
Could I the night too with her spend,
E'en then I should not mind.
If she were in mine arms but held,
To quench love's thirst I'd try;
And could my torments not be quell'd,
Upon her breast would die.
SMITTEN.
Through the wood as I was roaming,
There a gentle youth I spied,
Piping sweetly in the gloaming,
Till the rocks around replied,
So la la!
And beside him down he drew me,
