Dear father.

Father, strange to say, throughout the night
Although my figure, as you see, is slight
I dream I have a ripe, voluptuous form
And strong arms, 'round me' hold me close and warm

Until at last, at last, I blush to say
My very garments seem to melt away
Until, as nature clad me, there I stand
The willing victim to a wandering hand

And at these times, when I seem not alone
The form that holds me is not like my own
It has not swelling globes, here, such as these
No sloping thighs nor rounded, dimpled knees

And stranger still pray, father, dear, draw near
The greatest difference seems to be just here
Dear father, should I pray and fast, in pain?
Or sleep and dream those blissful dreams again?

It seems not sin and yet my mirror shows
A face where shame and deepest color glows
Tell me, it is not wicked, father, dear.
To find myself with new sensations, here

Ah! heaven! you burn, with fever too, it seems
Are you, as well, a prey to fitful dreams?
And once I dreamed far more than I have told
This handsome stranger once was overbold

And I will show thee, father, if I may
Just what was done. I could not but obey
The sun had set. The stars were in the sky
And I was trembling, though I knew not why

And here upon this couch, I lay, like this
When on my lips I felt a burning kiss
Yes! that is like it! Just the very same!
My arms reached upward. I was not to blame

For all my soul seemed hungering to feel
The strange delight that made my senses reel
It seemed so strange that pleasure should be pain
And yet I fain would suffer, once again

T'was thus and so and ever did I strain
To meet, half way, the source of all my pain
My voice came, fitful broken just as now
I was not mistress of myself, I vow!

I clasped the spirit visitor like this
Through all my veins, I felt his maddening kiss
My pulse went wild I knew not what was done
And goodness gracious!