Page:Potipharswifeoth00arnoiala.djvu/89

 Fisher-boy! this sea of thine

Maddens thee with mighty wine!

Fair thou art: yet thou and I

Are as is the sea and sky,

Which may meet but cannot marry;

If, for love of you, I'd tarry,

'Twere as though a cloud should wed

With some hill-top. Soft night sped

Lone the hill rises. Touch my hand

And better shalt thou understand."

I cannot take it! Plain I see

The soft, smooth skin, so velvety,

Of hand and wrist! Yet, when I clasp,

It is a mist melts in my grasp.

Now, I would give you back this dress

If you will change such loveliness

To solid flesh, not floating air,

Oh, thou than living flesh more fair!"

Peace! most foolish boy and fond!

I am what those are beyond;

More substantial, didst thou know,