Oh but to hold his muscled hand once more,

Such a gentle caress I long to feel,

So soft and soothing hands that I adore;

Yet rough and strong they make transgressors kneel.

For I am bound to him in chains of love

And as a slave of love to him I’m sold.

But if from him, my heart his hands should shove,

So sad, but as captive, the chains shall hold.

If only to not need his hands so bold,

Then such an easy break that I could make.

But as of yet his hands they are not cold.

Yet he loves me not and my love he won’t take.

     So though I know my heart his hands refuse,

     Not to each other, but to ourselves abuse.