Let them speak ill of m I do not care
 Why shouldst thou care that fairer art than I?
 My lips so oft have rested on thy hair,
 So oft on thy lips, and so oft
 On thy white arms that yet pretend to lie
 On my dreams cushions like a vague thing sof
 Let them spea Life is sweet if thy lips mean 
 Lif Love is sweet if thou art lov 
 The scorners cannot know what kisses screen 
 Our throbbing heart from heart nor prove 
 That full possession our mad love can scene 
 With perverse actions like an empire's end 
 That sinks among the galleys and doth blend 
 Its sunset with the landscape's emerald gree
 Let them spea Put thy hand within my hand 
 And let us love as maid and boy are said 
 To lov But we are none and love is red 
 On our hot souls thrill and understan 
 Oh, to thy bed!