Gentle rain we are nostalgic laden,


Soft kisses build up the anticipation.


I count hours, I beseech the maiden


to carry with swiftness declaration.


A letter of equal pining desire,




better still a visage of thy person--



when I dream such shall transpire.



osculated lips warm, heat such, sun


knows not of. Come, let us dance clums’ly
or at least I shall stumble whilst you seek
way to twist me round thy finger nimbly.
Delicate butterfly brush of the cheek.

What more cans’t one find ‘till thou art so
satisfied! Ne’er shalt my cheek not aglow?