Chapter II

You kissed me: your arms round my neck were entwined,
As the vine to the oak clings when pressed by the wind;
Your breath, zephyr-like from some lone balmy isle,
Shed a fragrance that heightened the charm of your smile,
And banished all care, as the sun at mid-day
Dispels the dark clouds which obscure his bright way.
And now, as fond memory, with tints bright and rare,
Paints thy rich coral lips as Love hovers there,
I ask but one boon may be granted to me,—
That I, like the oak, may forever shield thee.