by Zora Bernice May Cross
If there should be a moon above the hill
To-night, dip down with me into the sea
Of our first passion, and, with naked glee,
Breathe its ripe wonder to our beings’ fill.
O, as the moonbeams on the violets spill
Rivers of uncontrolled felicity,
We’ll tune our bodies to a melody
And set our pulses to a poet’s thrill.
Love…Love…Your hot lips tremble on my eyes.
You droop. You swoon in silence over me…
Heaven, out of yours, my very eyelids sup.
The stars are running out of Paradise…
I languish, perfumed with expectancy…
Beloved, kiss me, for the moon is up.
Last updated September 18, 2015