Love is the sepulchre of all my sin,
If it be sin to let the body sink
In that slow dying the sick senses drink
That neer have felt true Loves delight rush in.
Hot Vice may sear the bloom of Beautys skin
Polluting Virtue with a painted wink,
But Love smiles lightly at such guilt, I think,
And cures corruption eer her ills begin.
I cannot tell the wonder of desire
That flames my cheek when you are by my side.
Nor dare I speak the secret of that bliss
That sets the senses of my soul on fire.
Ah Love! all my sin vanished into pride
When I drank Heaven from your first pure kiss.
