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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455345" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Who but could—the saints, resist her...</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455345" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Here; alone lying on this cotton pillow. <br>I can still recall the lure of her lily scent: <br>Bouquets do me gaze and camphor and shadow... <br>Never a dull moment does the heart repent: </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455345" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Her fragrance, what; a promiscuous, allure. <br>Such elicit essences spring ajar the dart...<br>What an art this palpable kiss velour. <br>How it courses through my head and lonely heart... </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455345" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Then swept-on bye with brocades of flower <br>Spent-fallen, from Piety, a honey-suckle, <br>Vine; twisting around, the Lover's Lane Larkspur. <br>Who in the world could be gleeful, yet; still bashful? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455345" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Who but could—the saints preserve us, resist her.<br>Maybe; only the "Morning Star her goddess sister".</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Mark+Heathcote">Mark Heathcote</a></strong></div>

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