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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348614" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Bianca</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her cheeks are hot, her cheeks are white;<br>The white girl hardly breathes to-night,<br>So faint the pulses come and go,<br>That waken to a smouldering glow<br>The morbid faintness of her white.<br> <br>What drowsing heats of sense, desire<br>Longing and languorous, the fire<br>Of what white ashes, subtly mesh<br>The fascination of her flesh<br>Into a breathing web of fire?<br> <br>Only her eyes, only her mouth,<br>Live, in the agony of drouth,<br>Athirst for that which may not be:<br>The desert of virginity<br>Aches in the hotness of her mouth.<br> <br>I take her hands into my hands,<br>Silently, and she understands;<br>I set my lips upon her lips;<br>Shuddering to her finger-tips<br>She strains my hands within her hands.<br> <br>I set my lips on hers; they close<br>Into a false and phantom rose;<br>Upon her thirsting lips I rain<br>A flood of kisses, and in vain;<br>Her lips inexorably close.<br> <br>Through her closed lips that cling to mine,<br>Her hands that hold me and entwine,<br>Her body that abondoned lies,<br>Rigid with sterile ecstasies,<br>A shiver knits her flesh to mine.<br> <br>Life sucks into a mist remote<br>Her fainting lips, her throbbing throat;<br>Her lips that open to my lips,<br>And, hot against her finger-tips,<br>The pulses leaping in her throat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Arthur+Symons">Arthur Symons</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348614" data-title="Bianca de Arthur Symons" data-description="Her cheeks are hot, her cheeks are white;
The white girl hardly breathes to-night,
So faint the pulses come and go,
That waken to a smouldering glow
The morbid faintness of her white.
 
What drowsing heats of sense, desire
Longing and languorous, ..."></div>
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