Pleased and innocent

I gently touched her hand.

She gave a look that did my soul enslave;

I pressed her rebel lips in vain.

They rose to be pressed again.

Thus happy, I no farther meant,

Than to be pleased and innocent.

On her soft breasts my hand I laid,

And a quick, light impression made.

They with a kindly warmth did glow,

And swelled and seemed to overflow.

Yet trust me, I no farther meant,

But to be pleased and innocent.

On her eyes my eyes did stay:

O'er her smooth limbs my hands did stray;

Each sense was ravished with delight,

And my soul stood prepared for flight.

Blame me not if at last I meant

More to be pleased than innocent.