To Laura in The Gate of the Sanctuary from The Temple of the Holy Ghost (Collected Works, Vol I) by Aleister Crowley.

“My lips are fervent, as in prayer,
Thy lips are parted, as to kiss:
My hand is clenched upon the air,
Thy hand’s soft touch, how sweet it is!
The wind is amorous of the sea;
The sea’s large limbs to its embrace
Curl, and thy perfume curls round me,
An incense on my eager face.” [via]

Consider also:

  1. “She creeps alive upon the tawny sands, False glittering woman, girt about with lies! She steals toward me, the tigress sleek and fierce! Destroying devil, with long sinuous hands And hate triumphant in blue-murderous eyes! I nerve myself to spring upon and pierce With maddening fangs those firm white bosom towers, To tear those lithe voluptuous limbs apart And glut my ravening soul with vengeance. Heart Quickens as she draws near; the scent of flowers Breathes round her damned presence. Shall she live To triumph with those tainted lips of song — She whispered ‘Dearest, I have kept thee long’. I flung myself before her, ‘Love, forgive!'”
  2. “You say — but Oh! my Marion’s kiss Shall linger on my palate still, No joy on earth is like to this That we have tasted to our fill Of all our sweet lascivious will. The cup is drained of lust’s delight, Yet wells with pleasure, and by night I’ll come once more and loving lie Between thine amorous limbs, despite That we must part and love must die.”
  3. “MISTRESS, I pray thee, when the wind Exults upon the roaring sea, Come to my bosom, kissed and kind And sleep upon the lips of me!”
  4. “Yet, did I raise my head, throughout the gloom I might behold thine eyes as red as fire, A tigress maddened with supreme desire. White arms that clasp me, fervent breast that glides An eager snake, about my breast and sides, And white teeth keen to bite, red tongue that tires, And lips ensanguine with unfed desires, Hot breath and hands, disheveled hair and head, Thy fevered mouth like snakes’ mouths crimson red, A very beast of prey; and I like thee, Fiery, unweary, as thou art of me.”
  5. “It is a sweet thing to be loved, Although my sighs in absence wake, Although my saddening heart is moved, I smile and bear for love’s dear sake. My songs their wonted music make, Joyous and careless, songs of youth, Because the sacred lips of both Are met to kiss the last good-bye, Because sweet glances weep for ruth That we must part, and love must die.”