SONGS OF LA MOUCHE
You dominate my lightest thought,
Even in words that I was taught
Nightly to pray I seem to hear
The long-drawn chuckle of your sneer.
Even in words that I was taught
Nightly to pray I seem to hear
The long-drawn chuckle of your sneer.
And when I lay me down in bed,
Your words go trooping through my head,
Your kisses on my body burn
And hot with shame I toss and turn.
Your words go trooping through my head,
Your kisses on my body burn
And hot with shame I toss and turn.
You kiss my hands, you kiss my hair,
And when I cry in my despair,
"God save me from so fierce a bane,"
I hear your voice in mine again.
And when I cry in my despair,
"God save me from so fierce a bane,"
I hear your voice in mine again.
Where 'er I go, what 'er I do,
I suffer for my thoughts of you;
Must my tormented senses pay
The price of pity night and day?
I suffer for my thoughts of you;
Must my tormented senses pay
The price of pity night and day?
Paris, 1855.
44
