I dreamed this mortal part of mine



Was metamorphosed to a vine,



Which crawling one and every way



Enthralled my dainty Lucia.



Methought her long small legs and thighs



I with my tendrils did surprise;



Her belly, buttocks, and her waist



By my soft nervelets were embraced.



About her head I writhing hung,



And with rich clusters (hid among



The leaves) her temples I behung,



So that my Lucia seemed to me



Young Bacchus ravished by his tree.



My curls about her neck did crawl,



And arms and hands they did enthrall,



So that she could not freely stir



(All parts there made one prisoner).



But when I crept with leaves to hide



Those parts which maids keep unespied,



Such fleeting pleasures there I took



That with the fancy I awoke;



And found (ah me!) this flesh of mine



More like a stock than like a vine.









