From Behind the Lattice

I see your red-gold hair and know

How white the hidden skin must be,

Though sun-kissed face and fingers show

The fervour of the noon-day glow,

The keenness of the sea.

My longing fancies ebb and flow,

Still circling constant unto this;

My great desire ( ah, whisper low )

To plant on thy forbidden snow

The rosebud of a kiss.

The scarlet flower would spread and grow,

Your whiteness change and flush,

Be still, my reckless heart, beat slow,

‘ T is but a dream that stirs thee so! )

To one transparent blush.