Vachel Lindsay

Caught in a Net

Upon her breast her hands and hair 
Were tangled all together. 
The moon of June forbade me not — 
The golden night time weather 
In balmy sighs commanded me 
To kiss them like a feather. 

Her looming hair, her burning hands, 
Were tangled black and white. 
My face I buried there. I pray — 
So far from her to-night — 
For grace, to dream I kiss her soul 
Amid the black and white.