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Restless Yearn
Author: William R. Sweetling



Longing is tween waterfall
Of agelong dream, sweet offer’s call,
And fancy’s choreographer
To passion’s core, as godly surge
Arouses bawdy appetite,
Endowed with wanting you entice.

Beyond the fronds of long daydreams
Sees pondered aeons bathed upstream
From sparkling droplets baring nymph,
Enlarging thoughts from daring glimpse
Of naked beauty glistening,
While my ache mewing wistfully.

Perhaps ‘tis sound of throbbing heart,
Or pounding stroke of hardening part
That summons maiden heed this fire,
The thunder blanketing desire,
And lay upon this virgin earth
To taste the plum that fervor births.

Within desire’s sweet interlude
Eternity inspires each fugue,
While we provide hot-blooded yarn
That lovers speak inside love’s arms
Between the whispers passion breathes,
As thirsting for you apperceives.

Sweet busses circle royal neck,
Then pause to brush her loyal breasts
Whose nipples rise and plead for more
From minstrel’s time kept, seed amour
Midst amaranthine passionflowers
Enchanted with fruit we empowered.

We twine about our eager flesh
While tongues divine each flowering crest,
Then linger on soft abdomen
Before take in rhapsody’s twin
Who bids with urgent quivering,
That kisses not forget twin’s needs.

Heaven nests moments away --
Embedded in swollen bouquet --
And tween this wish’s eager thighs
Sweet dream’s climax with shrieks arrives
To crown two lovers’ hunger cloyed,
Resounding through unnumbered joys.

This vision ever lights my days
While night forever like bridesmaid
To flames ignited by your thought:
This plane’s disciple you begot.

She Walks in Beauty
Author: Lord Byron



She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

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