When panting sighs the bosom fill, And hands by chance...

When panting sighs the bosom fill, And hands by chance united thrill At once with one delicious pain The pulses and the nerves of twain; When eyes that erst could meet with ease, Do seek, yet, seeking, shyly shun Ecstatic conscious unison, The sure beginnings, say, be these Prelusive to the strain of love Which angels sing in heaven above?