Were I

Were I thy hand, thy soft, lascivous hand,
  That glides and swerves along thy snowy breasts:
  A snake that savours every grain of sand
  Upon thy flesh and on thy thighs there rests.
Were I thy lips to taste thy trancelike kiss
  When uncontroll'd by love and lust and fire
  Of passion, thou art lost in an abyss,
  So I would quench thy wish with my desire.
Were I thy soul to know the mystery
  That sets thyself awake and what sweet thought
  That burns within thy bosom; would I be
  Thy every wish and love, but I am not:
     I am thy lover, and suffices me thee
     Love and for evermore thy lover be.