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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=455345" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Who but could—the saints, resist her...</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here; alone lying on this cotton pillow. <br>I can still recall the lure of her lily scent: <br>Bouquets do me gaze and camphor and shadow... <br>Never a dull moment does the heart repent: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her fragrance, what; a promiscuous, allure. <br>Such elicit essences spring ajar the dart...<br>What an art this palpable kiss velour. <br>How it courses through my head and lonely heart... </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then swept-on bye with brocades of flower <br>Spent-fallen, from Piety, a honey-suckle, <br>Vine; twisting around, the Lover's Lane Larkspur. <br>Who in the world could be gleeful, yet; still bashful? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who but could—the saints preserve us, resist her.<br>Maybe; only the &quot;Morning Star her goddess sister&quot;.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mark+Heathcote">Mark Heathcote</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=455345" data-title="Who but could—the saints, resist her... de Mark Heathcote" data-description="Here; alone lying on this cotton pillow. 
I can still recall the lure of her lily scent: 
Bouquets do me gaze and camphor and shadow... 
Never a dull moment does the heart repent: 

Her fragrance, what; a promiscuous, allure. 
Such elicit essences..."></div>
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