KISS XIV.
Those tempting lips of scarlet glow
Why pout with fond, bewitching art?
For to those lips, Neæra, know,
My lips shall not one kiss impart.
Perhaps you’d have me greatly prize,
Hard-hearted fair, your precious kiss;
But learn, proud mortal, I despise
Such cold, such unimpassioned bliss.
Think’st thou I calmly feel the flame
That all my rending bosom fires,
And patient bear, through all my frame,
The pangs of unallayed desires?
Ah, no!—but turn not thus aside
Those tempting lips of scarlet glow;
Nor yet avert, with angry pride,
Those eyes, from whence such raptures flow!
Forgive the past, sweet-natured maid;
My kisses, love, are all thy own:
Then let my lips to thine be laid,
To thine, more soft than softest down.
