The bouncing little laugh-beams of your eyes
Quake through your arms and hands
And shake out from your lips right into mine.
Our kissing and caressing, it is one---
With nothing else we know of; it is rare
As---there is nothing else so rare.
Priceless diamonds, blazing city lights,
How common all these are,
And common is the shooting star.
Our love speaks, lives, triumphs, in secret heights;
Only we do know them, and that is great.
We are the selfish masters of our fate.