Pickthorn Manor: 32

Amy Lowell

Her eyelids fell again at that sweet sight,
 “My Love!” she murmured, “Dearest!  Oh, my Dear!”
He took her in his arms and bore her right
 And tenderly to the old seat, and “Here
I have you mine at last,” she said, and swooned
 Under his kisses.  When she came once more
    To sight of him, she smiled in comfort knowing
 Herself laid as before
Close covered on his breast.  And all her glowing
Youth answered him, and ever nearer growing
    She twined him in her arms and soft festooned

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