THE KISS. INSCRIBED TO OLYNDA.
Those balmy lips outvie the rose,
A thousand sweets at once disclose;
Each kiss is heaven itself confess’d,
And nature made them to be press’d.
As feasts the bee on Flora’s plain,
I’d sip, and sip, and sip again;
At every taste new joy I’d prove,
And die of aromatic love.
Then, charmer, ne’er deny the bliss
That flows from thy delicious kiss;
And if there be a joy intense
In gratifying human sense,
Be love, and love alone, your plan,
And me alone the happy man.
NEW-YORK: Printed by JOHN BULL, No. 115, Cherry-Street, where every Kind of Printing work is executed with the utmost Accuracy and Dispatch.—Subscriptions for this Magazine (at 2s. per month) are taken in at the Printing-Office, and by E. MITCHELL, Bookseller, No. 9, Maiden-Lane.