Classic Poem

Leave then thy kisses, cease, let be:
For fairer flowers and fancies keep
Their watch amid the paths of sleep.
I weary of thy love and thee.

On dusky meadows of the sea
The faint stars worn with watching cower,
And slow and sombre-blue the hour
Comes onward of the dawn to be.

Ah love, thy lips curved like a lyre!
What ails it us to strive and strain?
For though ten times desire be slain
There lives again a new desire.

Yea, though our hearts went nigh to swoon
With stress of amorous arms and lips,
Love would revive, as from eclipse
Resurgent springs a fierier moon.

Have not my myriad kisses fed
Upon thy body from thy sweet
White eyelids to thy whiter feet,
Nor I nor thou been satiated?

Not till the same death part us two,
Making thy lover one with thee,
Canst thou be wholly filled with me,
Or I possess thee through and through.

Sleep and the odour of thy breasts
Shall lull me, and thy loosened hair,
Till morning's golden touch make fair
The waves' innumerable crests.