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(About 1900)
BLOWN, all alone, o’er the watery miles; | |
| Lost, I was tossed on those grape-laden isles, | |
| Where, passing fair in her dimpling smiles, | |
| Played a sweet maid in the waters so bright; | |
| Chilled, yet I thrilled at the ravishing sight; | 5 |
| Sped to her, fled to her, wild with delight. | |
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| Soft, from aloft, sweet Cytherea sings; | |
| Dove-drawn, the love goddess artfully flings | |
| Spells, as she tells of the rapture she brings. | |
| Clear, to my ear, comes her whispering low— | 10 |
| Lure the demure, as she rocks to and fro. | |
| Wicked her liquid and musical flow. | |
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| Mark the soft, dark eyes that languish for you; | |
| Sleeps in their deeps a rich violet hue; | |
| Skies from her eyes catch their heavenly blue. | 15 |
| Down from her crown, tresses, fold upon fold, | |
| Curled and impearled with their jewels untold, | |
| Fall and enthrall with their glittering gold. | |
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| Coy, my dear boy, is a maid in repose; | |
| Wile, with a smile, and her low laughter flows; | 20 |
| Speak and her cheek all incarnadine grows. | |
| Seek in that cheek for the dimples that hide | |
| Quite from the sight; then a moment descried, | |
| Fly from your eye, half confessed, half denied. | |
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| Spring to her, cling to her, pearl of the sea; | 25 |
| Flushing and blushing, she beckons to thee; | |
| Chase her, embrace her, the gift is from me. | |
| Lave in the wave, with its foam-crested curl; | |
| Toy, dearest boy, with an ocean-born girl; | |
| Sip from her lip, decked with coral and pearl. | 30 |
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| Press her, caress her; that billowy breast | |
| Swells, and foretells in a sigh half suppressed, | |
| Bliss in the kiss which you mutely request. | |
| Gloat, as you float with her; banish alarms; | |
| Wound in the round of her passionate arms. | 35 |
| Praise, as you gaze on her ravishing charms. | |
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| Reel with her, feel where the gossamer lace | |
| Robes the white globes scarcely more than the place | |
| Where the soft hair curls in exquisite grace. | |
| Play with her, sway with her, loosen her zone; | 40 |
| Dare to lay bare her full bosom; your own | |
| Warms for her, storms for her—she is alone. | |
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| White, on the height of her velvety breast, | |
| Billow-like pillows, where Cupid might rest, | |
| Heave, to receive your warm lips to them pressed. | 45 |
| Crowned is each mound by a rich scarlet stud; | |
| Lips to their tips, taste each roseate bud, | |
| Dyed by the tide of her heart’s richest blood. | |
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| Down with her, drown her sweet, murmuring cries; | |
| Steal low and feel, near her plump rounded thighs, | 50 |
| Moss fine as floss, half concealing the prize | |
| Left like the cleft in the peach’s ripe side, | |
| Pink as the brink of a sea shell is dyed— | |
| Out, see it pout, as its lips open wide. | |
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| Holds, in its folds, the small clitoral bud; | 55 |
| Thrills as it fills with her riotous blood; | |
| Peeps from the deeps like a bright ruby stud. | |
| Clip with the tongue tip the small sensitive flower; | |
| Grip with the lip as it slips from its bower; | |
| Turn, feel it burn with her passion’s full power. | 60 |
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| Prone, with a moan of expectant delight, | |
| Lies the sweet prize, too enraptured for fright; | |
| Warm glows her form, there upheaved in your sight. | |
| Swing forth the lingam, in passionate sweep; | |
| Thrust, in your lust, to the uttermost deep; | 65 |
| Dart to her heart, in your masculine leap. | |
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