Classic Poem

If but to sleep alone be fair
As poets say,
How piercing sweet to lie all night
Until the day
With all her flower-like body pressed
Close unto mine,
To feel her moving heart, to taste
Her breath like wine. . . .

Ah, it were good to cease and die
So sweet a way,
Never to waken from our bed
To the chill day,
But sleep for ever in a dream,
Head beside head,
Warm in a golden swoon of love—
Divinely dead.