Clark Ashton Smith

In touching you
My hands have known the savor of delight
As the mouth knows the savor of sweet fruit;
And in your flesh my hands have seemed to hear
A melody that pulsed and pulsed
Even as the melody of dulcimers—
Yea, to my hands
Your flesh has breathed the perfume of its being,
Has sighed a secret essence,
Has given forth its immanent mystery
To mingle with the mystery of mine.

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