The Dream

Aphra Behn

All trembling in my arms Aminta lay,

Defending of the bliss I strove to take;

Raising my rapture by her kind delay,

Her force so charming was and weak.

The soft resistance did betray the grant,

While I pressed on the heaven of my desires;

Her rising breasts with nimbler motions pant;

Her dying eyes assume new fires.

Now to the height of languishment she grows,

And still her looks new charms put on;

– Now the last mystery of Love she knows,

We sigh, and kiss: I waked, and all was done.