Caught in a Net

Upon her breast her hands and hair

Were tangled all together.

The moon of June forbade me not —

The golden night time weather

In balmy sighs commanded me

To kiss them like a feather.

Her looming hair, her burning hands,

Were tangled black and white.

My face I buried there. I pray —

So far from her to-night —

For grace, to dream I kiss her soul

Amid the black and white.