Let the wide light come through the whole house now
 Like a herald with brow
Garlanded round with roses and those leaves,
 That love for its love weaves!

Between her and the ceiling this day's ending 
A man's weight will be bending.

Lo! with the thought her legs she twines, well knowing 
A hand will part them then;
Fearing that entering in her, that allowing 
That will make softness begin rude at pain. 

If ye, glad sunbeams, are inhabited
By sprites or gnomes that dally with the day 
Whisper her, if she shrink that she'll be bled,
That love's large bower is doored in this small way.