Rhythmical meeting of fingers,
Perfect according of thought,
Feeling of presence that lingers,
All with a fine meaning fraught.
Brain in a sweet measure ringing,
Heart in a rapture of pain,
Arms that lie heavy in clinging,
Bounty that gives but to gain.
Eyes with a warm languor gleaming,
Lips that must kiss, ah—must kiss,—
This is the love of my dreaming.
Tell me, is loving like this?