Charlotte Dacre

1782-1841 / England

The Kiss

THE greatest bliss
Is in a kiss—
A kiss of love refin'd,
When springs the soul
Without controul,
And blends the bliss with mind.

For if desire
Alone inspire,
The kiss not me can charm;
The eye must beam
With chasten'd gleam
That would my soul disarm.

What fond delight
Does love excite
When sentiment takes part!
The falt'ring sigh,
Voluptuous eye,
And palpitating heart.

Ye fleet too fast—
Sweet moment, last
A little longer mine!
Like Heaven's bow
Ye fade—ye go;
Too tremulously fine!
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