In Silken Cast

(a quatern)  
To peach’s taste in silken cast,  
The deepest draft, my thirsting’s slake,  
The wonder found in flesh’ repast,  
The tongue that mountain top awake.  

The valley twins to ridge extend  
To peach’s taste in silken cast.  
Warm in my pilgrim’s slow ascend,  
That peak that holds my wanting fast.  
 
From mountain’s base, the river’s splash,  
The water sweet that springs alive  
To peach’s taste in silken cast.  
How comes the quake that life revive.  
 
Now reaching tip, where crest gives way,
That hold, my love, released at last,  
The throbbing strain, where both fall prey  
To peach’s taste in silken cast.