Page:The Statues in the Block and Other Poems (1881).djvu/78



MAY not speak in words, dear, but let my words be flowers,
 * To tell their crimson secret in leaves of fragrant fire;

They plead for smiles and kisses as summer fields for showers,
 * And every purple veinlet thrills with exquisite desire.

O, let me see the glance, dear, the gleam of soft confession
 * You give my amorous roses for the tender hope they prove;

And press their heart-leaves back, love, to drink their deeper passion,
 * For their sweetest, wildest perfume is the whisper of my love!