Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/75



Such darling essence, wherefore may I not Be ever in these arms? in this sweet spot Pillow my chin forever? ever press These toying hands and kiss their smooth excess? Why not forever and forever feel That breath about my eyes! Ah, thou wilt steal Away from me again, indeed, indeed— Thou wilt be gone away, and wilt not heed My lonely madness. Speak, my kindest fair! Is—is it to be so? No! Who will dare To pluck thee from me? And, of thine own will, Full well I feel thou wouldst not leave me. Still Let me entwine thee surer, surer—now How can we part? Elysium! Who art thou? Who, that thou canst not be forever here, Or lift me with thee to some starry sphere? Enchantress! tell me by this soft embrace, By the most soft complexion of thy face, Those lips, O slippery blisses! twinkling eyes And by these tenderest, milky sovereignties— These tenderest, and by the nectar-wine. The passion"———"O loved Ida the divine! Endymion! dearest! Ah, unhappy me! His soul will 'scape us—O felicity! How he does love me! His poor temples beat To the very tune of love—how sweet, sweet, sweet! Revive, dear youth, or I shall faint and die; Revive, or these soft hours will hurry by In tranced dulness; speak, and let that spell Affright this lethargy! I cannot quell Its heavy pressure, and will press at least My lips to thine, that they may richly feast