Lovescape.
I feel soft-sift in thine hands.
Fast as in an hourglass the drift
quickens toward intimate contact
while kisses drench an expectant skin.
I am drawn to warm Lovescape.
Fired by thy mothsilk voice I lie
wishing more to take ravished gaze
which over-rideth my maiden shyness.
I seem much given to yield.
Seared to frazzle on need\'s rack
fear beaten with thine ardent flame
dieth mine early resistance to passion.
I be sealed by thy fervour.
Bathed by zeal\'s desired flavour
and close to swoon I, my Lord, thy
court favour thus shalt soon capitulate.