The palest petal of the pink rose bud
Curved with such shy and trembling tenderness;
The lovely sounds that he would hear
Forever on in life and after death
Paused on the lips, like birds in loving
Plunged in flights on fresh exciting air;
The lips were parted, as the morning bud
Yields to an intimacy newly found
--The delicate caressing of a shower;
An innocence and purity of passion
Flooded and throbbed, in fragile eagerness,
The childish wonder and the still unsullied joy
That was her mouth.