| A Dream
written by William Henry Davies
|From "Songs of Joy", 1911||Link to further information|
I met her in the leafy woods,
Early a Summer's night;
I saw her white teeth in the dark,
There was no better light.
Had she not come up close and made
Those lilies their light spread,
I had not proved her mouth a rose,
So round, so fresh, so red.
Her voice was gentle, soft and sweet,
In words she was not strong;
Yet her low twitter had more charm
Than any full-mouthed song.
We walked in silence to her cave,
With but few words to say;
But ever and anon she stopped
For kisses on the way.
And after every burning kiss
She laughed and danced around;
Back-bending, with her breasts straight up,
Her hair it touched the ground.
When we lay down, she held me fast,
She held me like a leech;
Ho, ho! I know what her red tongue
Is made for, if not speech.
And what is this, how strange, how sweet!
Her teeth are made to bite
The man she gives her passion to,
And not to boast their white.
O night of Joy! O morning's grief!
For when, with passion done,
Rocked on her breast I fell asleep,
I woke, and lay alone.
|This work is in the public domain in countries where the copyright term is the author's life plus 70 years or less.|