The poem
Unfelt unheard, unseen, I've left my little queen, Her languid arms in silver slumber lying: Ah! through their nestling touch, Who---who could tell how much There is for madness---cruel, or complying?
Those faery lids how sleek! Those lips how moist!---they speak, In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds: Into my fancy's ear Melting a burden dear, How "Love doth know no fulness, nor no bounds."
True!---tender monitors! I bend unto your laws: This sweetest day for dalliance was born! So, without more ado, I'll feel my heaven anew, For all the blushing of the hasty morn.