A LOVE POEM OR A DIRTY ONE?

"Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms,

I filled with love, and she all over charms;

Both equally inspired with eager fire,

Melting through kindness, flaming in desire.

With arms, legs, lips close clinging to embrace,

She clips me to her breast, and sucks me to her face.

Her nimble tongue, love’s lesser lightning, played

Within my mouth, and to my thoughts conveyed

Swift orders that I should prepare to throw

The all-dissolving thunderbolt below.

My fluttering soul, sprung with the pointed kiss,

Hangs hovering o’er her balmy brinks of bliss.

But whilst her busy hand would guide that part

Which should convey my soul up to her heart,

In liquid raptures I dissolve all o’er,

Melt into sperm, and spend at every pore. A touch from any part of her had done’t:

Her hand, her foot, her very look's a cunt.

Smiling, she chides in a kind murmuring noise,

And from her body wipes the clammy joys,

When, with a thousand kisses wandering o’er

My panting bosom, “Is there then no more?”

She cries. “All this to love and rapture’s due;

Must we not pay a debt to pleasure too?”

John Wilmot