Yet the twin faces, like Madonnas, meeting, 
Fear and draw back and gaze a little space ; 
Fear, lest they lose the moonlight frail and fleeting, 
Lose their own beauty in their own embrace, 
But feel how gladdening hearts and bosoms beating 
Kindle the face  .  .  .  .  .  .  . . 
 
 
But not for long shall lilies strive with roses, 
Nor fear be fearful, nor delight repose, 
Nor love retire ; the woodland cleaves and closes 
Round heads an aureole hides, a rainbow shows. 
A swifter shape of fire cleaves us, encloses 
Rosebud and rose.  .  .  .  .  .  .  . 
 
 
Mouth unto mouth !  O fairest !  Mutely lying, 
Fire lambent laid on water,—O ! the pain ! 
Kiss me, O heart, as if we both were dying ! 
Kiss, as we could not ever kiss again ! 
Kiss me, between the music of our sighing, 
Lightning and rain ! 
 
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