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She lay all naked in her bed, And I myself lay by;No Veil but Curtains about her spread, No covering but I.
Her Breasts, that swelled so plump and high, Bred pleasant pain in me,For all the world I do defile The like felicity.
Her thighs and belly, soft and fair, To me were only shown:To see such meat, and not to eat, Would anger any stone.
Her knees lay upward gently bent, And all lay hollow under,As if on easy terms they meant To fall unforced asunder.
Mad with delight, I thundering Threw my Arms about her.But Pox upon it - 'twas but a dream, And so I lay without her.
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