At Stockholm in White Stains by Aleister Crowley.

“What time for language, when our kisses flow
Eloquent, warm, as words are cold and weak? —
Or now — Ah! sweetheart, even were it so
We could not speak!” [via]

Consider also:

  1. “I have an idol wrought of stainless gold Before whose feet I bow, in whose delight I am content to live, whose spells of might Are smiles that gleam, are tears that glisten cold On the fair cheek that blushes if I praise; Are warm ripe kisses in the softer hours When love is perfect blossom of sweet flowers, Are shadowed glances of pure love light rays From clear blue eyes, are wonderful caresses When love is golden autumn of sweet fruit. What other worship can usurp my days When I may lie amid her sunny tresses Enraptured by the music of her lute One long calm love, one heart’s delight always?”
  2. “We could not speak, although the sudden glow Of passion mantling to the crimson cheek Of either, told our tale of love, although We could not speak.”
  3. “What need of language, barren and false and bleak, While our white arms could link each other so, And fond red lips their partners mutely seek?”
  4. “You say another’s sensuous lips Shall open to my kisses there: When weary, steal those luscious sips; Another’s hands play in my hair And find delight for me to bare The bosom, and the passionate mound White and, for Venus’ temple, round, A garden of wild thyme whose eye My sword shall piece, and never wound: For we must part, and love must die.”
  5. “Fond limbs with mine were intertwined, A hand lascivious fondled me; My ears grew deaf, my eyes grew blind, My tongue was hot from kisses free, Short madness, and we lazily Lolled back upon the bed of fire. I was a-weary — her desire Drew her upon me — Marion, fie! You work our pleasure till I tire: But we must part, and love must die.”