Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake (26 March 1866 – May 1892 / Sydney / Australia)

I've a kiss from a warmer lover
Than maiden earth can be:
She blew it up to the skies above her,
And now it has come to me;
From the far-away it has come today
With a breath of the old salt sea.



She lay and laughed on a lazy billow,
Far away on the deep,
Who had gathered the froth for my lady's pillow -
Gathered a sparkling heap;
And the ocean's cry was the lullaby
That cradled my love to sleep.



Far away on the blue Pacific
There doth my lady roam,
That is oft-times gay, but as oft terrific:
Her jewels are beads of foam:
In a coral cave, where a blue-green wave
Keeps guard, is my lady's home.



She claps her hands, and her henchman hurries
West of the sunset sheen:
'Tis he who comes when a mist-wrack scurries,
Skirting the deep ravine;
And my heart is stirred by the loving word
He carries me from my queen.



A drop distilled from a lotos flower -
That is the magic key
To unlock the cage, and my soul has power
To gather itself and flee,
At my love's behest, where she waits her guest
In a palace beneath the sea.



Joy is ours that is almost anguish:
Pain that is almost sweet:
We kiss; and the ocean creatures languish
Jealously at our feet;
The sight grows dim, and the senses swim
When I and my lady greet.



There to dream, while the soul is swooning
Under a woven spell -
Hushed to sleep by her tender crooning
Learnt from the ocean swell -
There to rest on her jewelled breast,
To love and be loved as well!