Oh, my beloved! though I live
A thousand years upon the earth,
And though each pleasure take its birth
From me; though it be mine to give all
Rapture, every thrill and joy
Known unto gods; though I destroy
All ills, and overcome e'en death
Within the vapour of a breath,
That from thy lips passed into mine,
Fire-tipped, of earth, yet all divine
Would be contained more ecstasy,
To chain the soul eternally
With fetters woven of thy kiss —
Than in Mahomet's realms of bliss —
Nay more — of Heaven I ask but this.