THE KISS IN POETRY.
SONNET UPON A STOLEN KISS.
Now gentle Sleep hath closèd up those eyes
Which, waking, kept my boldest thoughts in awe;
And free access unto that sweet lip lies,
From whence 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 theft reveal,
Nor rob I her of aught that she can miss: