The Benedictine scents and stains <br />the languor of your pallid lips; <br />My kiss shall be a bee that sips <br />A fainting roseleaf flushed with rains. <br /> <br />I thirst, and yet my thirst increases <br />With draining deep and deeper kisses; <br />The odour of your breath releases <br />Desires that dream of deeper blisses. <br /> <br />And on my lips your lips now pressed <br />Cling moist and close; your lips begin <br />Devouringly to gather in <br />Your kisses that my lips possessed. <br /> <br />The odour of your breath releases <br />Wafts of intoxicating blisses; <br />Yet still my thirst of you increases, <br />I think beneath your thirsty kisses. <br /> <br />No kisses more, this perilous day, <br />Or tempting, tempt me not in vain: <br />This day I dare not taste again <br />Your lips that suck my soul away!<br /><br />Arthur Symons<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/benedictine-2/
