That Touch

I was feeling your wilful touch,
Somehow alluring and shameful to watch
Your fingers in jollity, over my tidal jet,
Kept sailing unschooled at the highest rate

And I touched you; and tender was my touch
As tender as the skin in the pouch;
And I hugged you; and cordial was my hug
As cordial as the scarf in the fog

But I knew not if you, unlike me, were on purpose
To land me in some other land I suppose.