When Like the Sun …

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When like the sun I warm her snow,
She smiles above and melts below
And my caress between her thighs
Revives the dew of paradise.

Those glands of Bartholin I bless,
The sweet wild honey they express,
The exquisite faint scent they bring
Of mountain flowers in early spring.

O, let me be your bee and rove
The heaths and tufted slopes of love,
Gather that honey all day long
And breathe its fragrance in my song.

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