dusky edge gave way to evening's margin, abounding softness flowed as down to slumbering mind.

to my mind, in soft repose, thine own sweet frame presented fine presence, and therein lay beneath my eyes, still yet quiv'ring, chill, yet shiv'ring, willing, yet...willing...

night's pledge made way for late day's bargin, astounding roughness stowed away agreeing fashion

two souls, feeling free to set their sights, even spaced in unitary gain, leavening growth in special pain, in rounding toughness flowed today to fleeing kind

these seeking kind, these special minds, too fixed mayhaps on stilling loneness, too twixt between the hearts of other soulness, too tardy pressed to make the bet again

that strangers curved to friendships old, could please the soul and face the cold, in measures torn too dear and bold, with titles stolen cheaply sold?

now, in honest pleasures true, two hearts of dear enchanting blue waxed fair, how clear! no slanting slough, no vexed offense had drawn or blew!

no, loved maid, could I withdraw or plead my heart to be less raw, could I belie my tears to flow as thoughts of thee increase and grow.

oh, even sweetened pleasured mind, who draws me out with treasures kind, how could I but grow closer still, as hearts' clear tunes make music's trill?

yes for us, and you, and me, and we, and now, and I and thee! how not to quake but more to see, that you I seek, and not to flee.

and not to flee; to be with thee; enchanting dove, this bird of love.