Part 12
THE KISS From "Cynthia's Revels"
O that joy so soon should waste! Or so sweet a bliss As a kiss Might not for ever last! So sugared, so melting, so soft, so delicious, The dew that lies on roses, When the morn herself discloses, Is not so precious. O, rather than I would it smother, Were I to taste such another, It should be my wishing That I might die with kissing.
Ben Jonson [1573?-1637]
"TAKE, O TAKE THOSE LIPS AWAY"
Take, O take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn, And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn; But my kisses bring again, Seals of love, but sealed in vain.
Hide, O hide those hills of snow, Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow Are of those that April wears! But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those icy chains by thee.
The first stanza from " Measure for Measure," by William Shakespeare [1564-1616] The second stanza from "The Bloody Brothers," by John Fletcher [1579-1625]
A STOLEN KISS
Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyes Which, waking, kept my boldest thoughts in awe; And free access unto that sweet lip lies, From which I long the rosy breath to draw. Methinks no wrong it were, if I should steal From those two melting rubies one poor kiss; None sees the theft that would the thief reveal, Nor rob I her of aught that she can miss; Nay, should I twenty kisses take away, There would be little sign I had done so; Why then should I this robbery delay? O, she may wake, and therewith angry grow! Well if she do, I'll back restore that one, And twenty hundred thousand more for loan.
George Wither [1588-1667]
SONG
My Love bound me with a kiss That I should no longer stay; When I felt so sweet a bliss I had less power to part away: Alas! that women do not know Kisses make men loath to go.
Yes, she knows it but too well, For I heard when Venus' dove In her ear did softly tell That kisses were the seals of love: O muse not then though it be so, Kisses make men loath to go.
Wherefore did she thus inflame My desires, heat my blood, Instantly to quench the same And starve whom she had given food? Ay, ay, the common sense can show, Kisses make men loath to go.
Had she bid me go at first I would ne'er have grieved my heart Hope delayed had been the worst; But ah to kiss and then to part! How deep it struck, speak, gods! you know Kisses make men loath to go.
Unknown
TO ELECTRA
I dare not ask a kiss, I dare not beg a smile, Lest having that, or this, I might grow proud the while.
No, no, the utmost share Of my desire shall be Only to kiss that air That lately kissed thee.
Robert Herrick [1591-1674]
"COME, CHLOE, AND GIVE ME SWEET KISSES"
Come, Chloe, and give me sweet kisses, For sweeter sure never girl gave; But why in the midst of my blisses, Do you ask me how many I'd have? I'm not to be stinted in pleasure, Then, prithee, my charmer, be kind, For whilst I love thee above measure, To numbers I'll ne'er be confined.
Count the bees that on Hybla are playing, Count the flowers that enamel its fields, Count the flocks that on Tempe are straying, Or the grain that rich Sicily yields, Go number the stars in the heaven, Count how many sands on the shore, When so many kisses you've given, I still shall be craving for more.
To a heart full of love, let me hold thee, To a heart that, dear Chloe, is thine; In my arms I'll for ever enfold thee, And twist round thy limbs like a vine. What joy can be greater than this is? My life on thy lips shall be spent! But the wretch that can number his kisses, With few will be ever content.
Charles Hanbury Williams [1708-1759]
A RIDDLE
I am just two and two, I am warm, I am cold, And the parent of numbers that cannot be told, I am lawful, unlawful - a duty, a fault - I am often sold dear, good for nothing when bought; An extraordinary boon, and a matter of course, And yielded with pleasure when taken by force.
William Cowper [1731-1800]
TO A KISS
Soft child of love, thou balmy bliss, Inform me, O delicious kiss, Why thou so suddenly art gone, Lost in the moment thou art won?
Yet go! For wherefore should I sigh? On Delia's lips, with raptured eye, On Delia's blushing lips I see A thousand full as sweet as thee.
John Wolcot [1738-1819]
SONG
Often I have heard it said That her lips are ruby-red. Little heed I what they say, I have seen as red as they. Ere she smiled on other men, Real rubies were they then.
When she kissed me once in play, Rubies were less bright than they, And less bright than those which shone In the palace of the Sun. Will they be as bright again? Not if kissed by other men.
Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864]
THE FIRST KISS OF LOVE
Away with your fictions of flimsy romance, Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove! Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance, Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.
Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow, Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove; From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow, Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love!
If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse, Or the Nine be disposed from your service to rove, Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse, And try the effect of the first kiss of love.
I hate you, ye cold compositions of art! Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove, I court the effusions that spring from the heart, Which throbs with delight to the first kiss of love.
Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes, Perhaps may amuse, yet they never can move: Arcadia displays but a region of dreams; What are visions like these to the first kiss of love?
Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth, From Adam till now, has with wretchedness strove; Some portion of Paradise still is on earth, And Eden revives in the first kiss of love.
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past - For years fleet away with the wings of the dove - The dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.
George Gordon Byron [1788-1824]
"JENNY KISSED ME"
Jenny kissed me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in; Time, you thief, who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in! Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, Say that health and wealth have missed me, Say I'm growing old, but add, Jenny kissed me.
Leigh Hunt [1784-1859]
"I FEAR THY KISSES, GENTLE MAIDEN"
I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden; Thou needest not fear mine; My spirit is too deeply laden Ever to burthen thine.
I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion; Thou needest not fear mine; Innocent is the heart's devotion With which I worship thine.
Percy Bysshe Shelley [1792-1822]
LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY
The fountains mingle with the river, And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of heaven mix forever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle; - Why not I with thine?
See the mountains kiss high heaven, And the waves clasp one another; No sister flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea; What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me?
Percy Bysshe Shelley [1792-1822]
SONG From "In a Gondola"
The moth's kiss, first! Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure, this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed Its petals up; so, here and there You brush it, till I grow aware Who wants me, and wide ope I burst.
The bee's kiss, now! Kiss me as if you entered gay My heart at some noonday, A bud that dares not disallow The claim, so all is rendered up, And passively its shattered cup Over your head to sleep I bow.
Robert Browning [1812-1889]
SUMMUM BONUM
All the breath and the bloom of the year in the bag of one bee: All the wonder and wealth of the mine in the heart of one gem: In the core of one pearl all the shade and the shine of the sea: Breath and bloom, shade and shine, - wonder, wealth, and - how far above them - Truth, that's brighter than gem, Trust, that's purer than pearl, - Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe - all were for me In the kiss of one girl.
Robert Browning [1812-1889]
THE FIRST KISS
If only in dreams may man be fully blest, Is heaven a dream? Is she I clasped a dream? Or stood she here even now where dewdrops gleam And miles of furze shine golden down the West? I seem to clasp her still - still on my breast Her bosom beats, - I see the blue eyes beam: - I think she kissed these lips, for now they seem Scarce mine: so hallowed of the lips they pressed! Yon thicket's breath - can that be eglantine? Those birds - can they be morning's choristers? Can this be earth? Can these be banks of furze? Like burning bushes fired of God they shine! I seem to know them, though this body of mine Passed into spirit at the touch of hers!
Theodore Watts-Dunton [1836-1914]
TO MY LOVE
Kiss me softly and speak to me low; Malice has ever a vigilant ear; What if Malice were lurking near? Kiss me, dear! Kiss me softly and speak to me low.
Kiss me softly and speak to me low; Envy, too, has a watchful ear; What if Envy should chance to hear? Kiss me, dear! Kiss me softly and speak to me low,
Kiss me softly and speak to me low; Trust me, darling, the time is near When lovers may love with never a fear; Kiss me, dear! Kiss me softly and speak to me low.
John Godfrey Saxe [1816-1887]
TO LESBIA
Give me kisses! Do not stay, Counting in that careful way. All the coins your lips can print Never will exhaust the mint. Kiss me, then, Every moment - and again!
Give me kisses! Do not stop, Measuring nectar by the drop. Though to millions they amount, They will never drain the fount. Kiss me, then, Every moment - and again!
Give me kisses! All is waste Save the luxury we taste; And for kissing, - kisses live Only when we take or give. Kiss me, then, Every moment - and again!
Give me kisses! Though their worth Far exceeds the gems of earth, Never pearls so rich and pure Cost so little, I am sure. Kiss me, then, Every moment - and again!
Give me kisses! Nay, 'tis true I am just as rich as you; And for every kiss I owe, I can pay you back, you know, Kiss me, then, Every moment - and again!
John Godfrey Saxe [1816-1887]
MAKE BELIEVE
Kiss me, though you make believe; Kiss me, though I almost know You are kissing to deceive: Let the tide one moment flow Backward ere it rise and break, Only for poor pity's sake!
Give me of your flowers one leaf, Give me of your smiles one smile, Backward roll this tide of grief Just a moment, though, the while, I should feel and almost know You are trifling with my woe.
Whisper to me sweet and low; Tell me how you sit and weave Dreams about me, though I know It is only make believe! Just a moment, though 'tis plain You are jesting with my pain.
Alice Cary [1820-1871]
KISSING'S NO SIN
Some say that kissing's a sin; But I think it's nane ava, For kissing has wonn'd in this warld Since ever that there was twa.
O, if it wasna lawfu' Lawyers wadna allow it; If it wasna holy, Ministers wadna do it.
If it wasna modest, Maidens wadna tak' it; If it wasna plenty, Puir folk wadna get it.
Unknown
TO ANNE
How many kisses do I ask? Now you set me to my task. First, sweet Anne, will you tell me How many waves are in the sea? How many stars are in the sky? How many lovers you make sigh? How many sands are on the shore? I shall want just one kiss more.
William Stirling-Maxwell [1818-1878]
SONG
There is many a love in the land, my love, But never a love like this is; Then kill me dead with your love, my love, And cover me up with kisses.
So kill me dead and cover me deep Where never a soul discovers; Deep in your heart to sleep, to sleep, In the darlingest tomb of lovers.
Joaquin Miller [1839-1913]
PHILLIS AND CORYDON
Phillis took a red rose from the tangles of her hair, - Time, the Golden Age; the place, Arcadia, anywhere, -
Phillis laughed, the saucy jade: "Sir Shepherd, wilt have this, Or" - Bashful god of skipping lambs and oaten reeds! - "a kiss?"
Bethink thee, gentle Corydon! A rose lasts all night long, A kiss but slips from off your lips like a thrush's evening song.
A kiss that goes, where no one knows! A rose, a crimson rose! Corydon made his choice and took - Well, which do you suppose?
Arthur Colton [1868-
AT HER WINDOW
"HARK, HARK, THE LARK" From "Cymbeline"
Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With everything that pretty bin, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise.
William Shakespeare [1564-1616]
"SLEEP, ANGRY BEAUTY"
Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me! For who a sleeping lion dares provoke? It shall suffice me here to sit and see Those lips shut up, that never kindly spoke: What sight can more content a lover's mind Than beauty seeming harmless, if not kind?
My words have charmed her, for secure she sleeps, Though guilty much of wrong done to my love;
And in her slumber, see! she close-eyed weeps: Dreams often more than waking passions move. Plead, Sleep, my cause, and make her soft like thee: That she is peace may wake and pity me.
Thomas Campion [? -1619]
MATIN SONG
Rise, Lady Mistress, rise! The night hath tedious been; No sleep hath fallen into mine eyes Nor slumbers made me sin. Is not she a saint then, say, Thoughts of whom keep sin away?
Rise, Madam! rise and give me light, Whom darkness still will cover, And ignorance, darker than night, Till thou smile on thy lover. All want day till thy beauty rise; For the gray morn breaks from thine eyes.
Nathaniel Field [1587-1633]
THE NIGHT-PIECE: TO JULIA
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee; And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
No Will-o'-the-wisp mislight thee, Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee; But on, on thy way Not making a stay, Since ghost there's none to affright thee.
Let not the dark thee cumber: What though the moon does slumber? The stars of the night Will lend thee their light Like tapers clear without number.
Then, Julia, let me woo thee, Thus, thus to come unto me; And when I shall meet Thy silvery feet, My soul I'll pour into thee.
Robert Herrick [1591-1674]
MORNING
The lark now leaves his watery nest, And climbing shakes his dewy wings, He takes your window for the east, And to implore your light, he sings; Awake, awake, the morn will never rise, Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.
The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, The ploughman from the sun his season takes; But still the lover wonders what they are, Who look for day before his mistress wakes; Awake, awake, break through your veils of lawn! Then draw your curtains and begin the dawn.
William D'Avenant [1606-1668]
MATIN-SONG From "The Rape of Lucrece"
Pack, clouds, away, and welcome, day, With night we banish sorrow. Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft To give my Love good-morrow! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow: Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale, sing, To give my Love good-morrow; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast, Sing, birds, in every furrow; And from each hill, let music shrill Give my fair Love good-morrow! Blackbird and thrush in every bush, Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow, You pretty elves, amongst yourselves Sing my fair Love good-morrow; To give my Love good-morrow Sing, birds, in every furrow!
Thomas Heywood [? -1650?]
THE ROSE
Sweet, serene, sky-like flower, Haste to adorn her bower; From thy long-cloudy bed, Shoot forth thy damask head.
New-startled blush of Flora, The grief of pale Aurora (Who will contest no more), Haste, haste to strew her floor!
Vermilion ball that's given From lip to lip in Heaven; Love's couch's coverled, Haste, haste to make her bed.
Dear offspring of pleased Venus And jolly, plump Silenus, Haste, haste to deck the hair Of the only sweetly fair!
See! rosy is her bower, Her floor is all this flower Her bed a rosy nest By a bed of roses pressed.
But early as she dresses, Why fly you her bright tresses? Ah! I have found, I fear, - Because her cheeks are near.
Richard Lovelace [1618-1658]
SONG
See, see, she wakes! Sabina wakes! And now the sun begins to rise; Less glorious is the morn that breaks From his bright beams, than her fair eyes.
With light united, day they give; But different fates ere night fulfil; How many by his warmth will live! How many will her coldness kill!
William Congreve [1670-1729]
MARY MORISON
O Mary, at thy window be, It is the wished, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor: How blithely wad I bide the stour A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison!
Yestreen, when to the trembling string The dance gaed through the lighted ha', To thee my fancy took its wing, I sat, but neither heard nor saw: Though this was fair, and that was braw, And yon the toast of a' the town, I sighed, and said amang them a', "Ye arena Mary Morison."
O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, Wha for thy sake wad gladly die? Or canst thou break that heart of his, Whase only faut is loving thee? If love for love thou wiltna gie, At least be pity to me shown; A thought ungentle canna be The thought o' Mary Morison.
Robert Burns [1759-1796]
WAKE, LADY!
Up! quit thy bower! late wears the hour, Long have the rooks cawed round the tower; O'er flower and tree loud hums the bee, And the wild kid sports merrily. The sun is bright, the sky is clear: Wake, lady, wake! and hasten here.
Up! maiden fair, and bind thy hair, And rouse thee in the breezy air! The lulling stream that soothed thy dream Is dancing in the sunny beam. Waste not these hours, so fresh and gay; Leave thy soft couch, and haste away!
Up! Time will tell the morning bell Its service-sound has chimed well; The aged crone keeps house alone, The reapers to the fields are gone. Lose not these hours, so cool and gay: Lo! while thou sleep'st they haste away!
Joanna Baillie [1762-1851]
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY
Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile - Though shut so close thy laughing eyes, Thy rosy lips still wear a smile And move, and breathe delicious sighs!
Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks And mantle o'er her neck of snow: Ah, now she murmurs, now she speaks What most I wish - and fear to know!
She starts, she trembles, and she weeps! Her fair hands folded on her breast: - And now, how like a saint she sleeps! A seraph in the realms of rest!
Sleep on secure! Above control Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee: And may the secret of thy soul Remain within its sanctuary!
Samuel Rogers [1763-1855]
"THE YOUNG MAY MOON"
The young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love; How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake! - the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear; And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!
Now all the world is sleeping, love, But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love, And I, whose star More glorious far Is the eye from that casement peeping, love. Then awake! - till rise of sun, my dear, The Sage's glass we'll shun, my dear, Or in watching the flight Of bodies of light He might happen to take thee for one, my dear!
Thomas Moore [1779-1852]
"ROW GENTLY HERE"
Row gently here, My gondolier, So softly wake the tide, That not an ear, On earth, may hear, But hers to whom we glide. Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as well As starry eyes to see, Oh think what tales 'twould have to tell Of wandering youths like me!
Now rest thee here, My gondolier; Hush, hush, for up I go, To climb yon light Balcony's height, While thou keep'st watch below. Ah! did we take for Heaven above But half such pains as we Take, day and night, for woman's love, What angels we should be!
Thomas Moore [1779-1852]
MORNING SERENADE
Awake! the dawn is on the hills! Behold, at her cool throat a rose, Blue-eyed and beautiful she goes, Leaving her steps in daffodils. - Awake! arise! and let me see Thine eyes, whose deeps epitomize All dawns that were or are to be, O love, all Heaven in thine eyes! - Awake! arise! come down to me!
Behold! the dawn is up: behold! How all the birds around her float, Wild rills of music, note on note, Spilling the air with mellow gold. - Arise! awake! and, drawing near, Let me but hear thee and rejoice! Thou, who keep'st captive, sweet and clear, All song, O love, within thy voice! Arise! awake! and let me hear!
See, where she comes, with limbs of day, The dawn! with wild-rose hands and feet, Within whose veins the sunbeams beat, And laughters meet of wind and ray. Arise! come down! and, heart to heart, Love, let me clasp in thee all these - The sunbeam, of which thou art part, And all the rapture of the breeze! - Arise! come down! loved that thou art!
Madison Cawein [1865-1914]
SERENADE