In The Meadow

The shadow of thy curls I see
      Upon thy lovely face;
And just a little wish is mine—
      The shadow to embrace.

On thy black and silken tresses,
      Ah, one longs to feast the sight;
But the shadows of their beauty,
      Hanging on thy cheeks of light,

From my lips, exact a tribute,
      Which I pay here in this meadow:
Blush not, my most winsome maiden;
      I have only kissed the shadow.