Softly shod to slip through blue walls
a phantom walks to find anew
a poetess in skips and stalls
of fluttering heart upon the blue.

Tis but the time of silken rhyme
to take away the once froze heart.
As whispered words are heard sublime
and moistened lips await, apart.

A trace of nail along the way
shall bring to ears a welcome sound
as phantom dreams through minds play
and sighs are heard in soft resound.

For from the sill of window break
a whispered word does touch each ear
as maidens sleep in dreaming quake
of sensual want and streaming tear.

Alas, though time is nigh, is not
the mome’ to stealth the waiting blue.
And as the heart is warm, most hot
a fleeting sound now bids adieu.