Richard Watson Gilder

The New Day. Part 3. 19. Thistle-Down

Fly, thistle-down, fly
From my lips to the lips that I love!
Fly through the morning light,
Flee through the shadowy night,
Over the sea and the land,
Quick as the lark
Through twilight and dark,
Through lightning and thunder;
Till no longer asunder
We stand;
For thy touch like the lips of her lover
Moves her being to mine—
We are one in a swoon divine!

Fly, thistle-down, fly
From my lips to the lips that I love!