THE DREAM

by: Aphra Behn (1640-1689)

ll trembling in my arms Aminta lay,

Defending of the bliss I strove to take;

Raising my rapture by her kind delay,

Her force so charming was and weak.

The soft resistance did betray the grant,

While I pressed on the heaven of my desires;

Her rising breasts with nimbler motions pant;

Her dying eyes assume new fires.

Now to the height of languishment she grows,

And still her looks new charms put on;

– Now the last mystery of Love she knows,

We sigh, and kiss: I waked, and all was done.




`Twas but a dream, yet by my heart I knew,

Which still was panting, part of it was true:

Oh how I strove the rest to have believed;

Ashamed and angry to be undeceived!

 

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