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Arthur Henry Adams - My Love.
Work rating: Low

SHE has tender eyes that tell
All her prim, set lips suppress —
Daring thoughts that ever dwell
Prisoned in her bashfulness;
Hints of sudden tenderness
That within her breast rebel.
Till her bosom`s fall and swell
Tell her meaning all too well,
To her heart`s demure distress.
She has soft, smooth cheeks that flame
As she nestles close, so close,
With the new half-joy, half-shame,
That within her bosom glows,
And each fevered feature shows.
Her hot pulses beat acclaim
Of the hopes she dare not tame,
Fervid thoughts she cannot name —
Till I kiss her, and she knows.
She has clinging arms of white,
Little hands and fingers fine,
And she holds me tight, so tight;
While her eager arms entwine
Deep I drink her kisses` wine.
Hush! I feel through all her slight,
Trembling figure love`s delight,
And she knows that all is right,
And her bosom beats with mine.
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