Thou wilt repose within mine arms! With rapturous emotion My bosom heaves and throbs and thrills At this delicious notion. Thou wilt repose within mine arms, Whilst with thy fair gold tresses I sport, and thy dear darling head My shoulder gently presses! Thou wilt repose within mine arms! To truth will turn my vision, And here on earth shall I enjoy The highest bliss elysian. St. Thomas! Scarce can I believe The fact, my doubts will linger Until upon my rapture’s wounds I lay my eager finger.

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