Last night, I dreamed of your hand clasped to mine,
Your sapphire eyes create a deep blue fire,
Shared kisses in the cup more than the wine,
Our cheeks did glow, which to the touch inspire;
Then warmer grew our touch, as night grew cold.
If love be play, the lovers need not talk,
By actions of the mimes all will be told,
Till curtains fall, that since in dusk would stalk;
But dreams, nocturnal, dwelling in the dark,
Could fade in breaking dawn, or hide someplace,
As passion heats, to greater joys embark,
But morning showed, out-glossed our last embrace;
.......And utmost now of my concerns, it seems:
.......To find which pillow gave the best of dreams.
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