All trembling in my arms Aminta lay,
Defending of the bliss I strove to take;
Raising my rapture by her kind delay,
Her force so charming was and weak.
The soft resistance did betray the grant,
While I pressed on the heaven of my desires;
Her rising breasts with nimbler motions pant;
Her dying eyes assume new fires.
Now to the height of languishment she grows,
And still her looks new charms put on;
– Now the last mystery of Love she knows,
We sigh, and kiss: I waked, and all was done.
`Twas but a dream, yet by my heart I knew,
Which still was panting, part of it was true:
Oh how I strove the rest to have believed;
Ashamed and angry to be undeceived!
Aphra Behn's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Dream by Aphra Behn )
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
- Alone, Maya Angelou
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
- Heather Burns
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)